Sonnet
by Yeghishe
Summary: Canon Divergence/Alternate Universe. Severus Snape, sent through an oblivion gate to retrieve a deadly weapon known only as The Dragonborn, soon realizes that he isn't dealing with a mere sword or wand. A lore-heavy description-overloaded game-based story of discovery. Major quest-line spoilers.
1. Unbound: Chapter 1

**_Act I_**

**_Unbound_**

**_Prologue | Chapter I_**

* * *

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

* * *

Wakening was agony. The light beat through the slits of his eyes and pushed against the back of his skull. There was a faint sound of moaning and it took him a moment to realize it was his own voice, hoarse and wretched. He had fallen. If waking was agony, moving was hell. All along his nerves there was a raging fire, burning and burning. He moaned again and the darkness opened to receive him.

When he woke again it was dark but the pain was still there. As though in a dream he watched a dim light bobbing towards him, golden and warm. A torch held by a dark figure.

"A live one."

Someone knelt on his right; the light moved closer.

"Wounded?" A second voice.

"Rrrrrrr." A throaty noise, like a purr. "It looks as though he fell."

A flask was held to his lips and it was all he could do to accept it. The liquid was warm and pleasant, unlike most potions, and the effects were immediate. The pain dulled and his body warmed. The edge of a waterskin was pressed against his lower lip and he managed to swallow a few mouthfuls before the light began to fade again.

"Help this one lift him Serana. He will need to be carried out."

Even as he faded in and out of consciousness he was aware of the sensations: a feeling of weightlessness as he was gently lifted, two glowing golden coals where the eyes of one of the figures eyes should be, the feeling of fur against his cheek as the other brushed his hair back, the low murmuring of gentle voices.

* * *

_Chapter titles from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet XVII._

_Edited for grammar & punctuation on July 4th, 2013 [courtesy of Claviculae, who has so many questions]._

* * *

_Fluid list of Official DLCs & __Mods (from Skyrim Nexus)__ directly mentioned or obviously used in this fanfiction:_

_Hearthfire (Official DLC)_

_Dawnguard (Official DLC)_

_Dragonborn (Official DLC)_

_Bandolier - Bags and Pouches (Dragten)_

_Better Villages (ZuNNeR)_

_Cloaks of Skyrim (Noodles)_

_Frostfall - H__ypothermia, Camping, and Survival__ (Chesko)_

___Gromits Cooking Recipes - Food - Drink Overhaul (Gromit)_

_____Gypsy Eyes Caravan (berticus0001)_

_______Harvest Overhaul (Omeletter)_

___Immersive Armors & Immersive Weapons (Hothtrooper44)_

_____Khajiit Child Maisha (tktk)_

_Lakeview Extended (__Ac3s)_

___Realistic _Needs and Diseases (perseid9)

_Regal Assassin Armor & Regal Huntsman Armor (DreamBurrow)_

_Winter Is Coming - Cloaks (Nivea)_


	2. Unbound: Chapter 2

**_Act I_**

**_Unbound_**

**_Chapter II_**

* * *

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

* * *

He woke twice in the night, pain licking the edges of his consciousness. Each time, a potion was pressed to his lips, chased by warm broth and water. A soothing voice, a brushing touch: this might be as close to heaven as he could ever hope to get. The darkness pressed close but the weight of the sweet smelling furs pressed closer.

When he woke fully the light was grey and muted. From his prone position he could see the curve of a tent wall and ceiling. The tent flap was pulled back slightly and through it he could see a fire with a steaming pot hung over it. Large, fluffy snowflakes drifted across the opening. The light flickered and was blocked as someone entered the tent.

"Mrrrr. How do you feel?"

He blinked, trying to sort through the wrongness. Their eyes met as the person knelt by him. The eyes were the brightest blue he had ever seen, but not human. They were slitted, cat-like, set in a fur-covered face. His eyes were drawn to the top of the creature's head where two pointed ears turned towards him in expectation.

He fumbled for his wand out of habit even as he slumped back into the furs with a moan, remembering nothing after.

* * *

When the darkness receded the creature was gone and in its place sat a young woman. She observed him with a solemn face and amber eyes that glowed like fire.

"Good, you are awake." She continued to watch him, her gaze sharpening into a glare when he made no reply. "Who are you?" she tried again.

He blinked stupidly. "S-s-severus Snape." He pulled his wand out and waved it in what he hoped was a threatening manner. Nothing happened, no sparks, no tingle. His magic was gone.

Panicking, he tried to fight his way out of the bedding. Her hand shot out and pressed him back with a grip like iron.

Feeling completely vulnerable and more than a little terrified, he subsided limply.

"What's this?" She pulled it from his weak hand with a quizzical look. "Its too short to be a staff."

"It's my wand," he managed weakly, watching her turn his most prized possession back and forth in her hands.

She frowned.

"Its how I do magic," he offered helpfully.

Her face cleared slightly and she held out her empty hand, palm up. A ball of fire flickered into existence, hovering slightly above her hand. "I know magic, but I don't know this 'wand'."

Severus shrugged. He had thought he knew magic too, but not this wild magic that seemed to press so close to the fabric of the world that a witch did not even need a wand to gather it.

The dark haired woman returned the polished wood to his eager grasp. "I am Serana. The one you offended is Ajiira."

"What was it?"

Serana's pale face contorted into a snarl and he caught sight of sharp canine teeth. "It? It! She isn't an animal. Ajiira is a Khajiit."

At his blank look she frowned. "You don't know what a Khajiit is?" Her tone was incredulous.

"I came through a gate from another world." He said defensively, realizing as he said it that it sounded outrageous.

To his surprise Serana seemed to think that was a sufficient explanation. "What is your world like?"

Severus shrugged helplessly. How could he describe lifts or automobiles, the telephone or firearms, the cinema or airplanes? "Different. We are all human there, like you and I." That seemed to be about as specific as he could be without seeing more of this place.

Serana found this amusing. "All human? You and I?" She smirked. "Well Severus-of-another-World, I am afraid I can't stay. Ajiira will have to tend you. Can you manage _that_?" She mocked slightly.

He nodded, flushing slightly. She moved him and his furs close to the campfire. Outside of the tent he could see that the camp was sheltered against an old wall. The skeleton of a stone building rose behind it, triangular arches decorated with curved and pointed carvings that seemed to resemble beaks or wings. It reminded him a little of illustrations of old Norse designs he had seen in books. To his right, as he sat facing the tent, a long flight of stairs led up to the center of the structure.

Serana caught his gaze and jerked her head toward the edifice. "Bleak Falls Barrow."

It meant nothing to him but he nodded anyway, gathering the furs around him as the frigid wind gusted across the open camp, carrying tingling bits of cold snow with it.

Serana clasped hands with Ajiira and mounted one of the two horses that were tethered nearby. With a final warning look she faded into to the gathering darkness. The message was clear: be polite.

The one called Ajiira worked around him with easy practice. He was amazed that she moved so gracefully and yet so humanly. She dismantled the tent swiftly, her slender fingers tiding the fur panels into even piles. Roll- roll- roll- tuck- roll. In minutes the tent was nothing more that a pile of bundled hides. The tanning rack dismantled and her brown fur bag packed. She eyed him, sitting in his wraps near the fire.

He tried to smile to show that he didn't mind her, that he was unafraid. She approached slowly, as one would a wild animal. While unhooking the cooking pot from its tripod and piling snow on the fire she was very careful not to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

She gave him a sideways glance. "No apologies are needed; this one understands."

She led the horse to the steps and approached him again. He began to worry, wondering if she would leave him here, in the shadow of this forbidding building, alone and weak.

She paused a few feet away and crouched, cocking her head to the side, thick dreadlocks falling over her shoulder. "This one humbly asks to aid Severus to the horse."

"Of course."

She parted the extra furs and pulled him gently to his feet. He swayed unexpectedly. Hooking her arm under his armpit, she guided him slowly to the stairs. Using them as a stepstool she eased him into the saddle. He swayed slightly as the horse fidgeted. He had never ridden before; the slums of Manchester hadn't offered much in the way of riding lessons. The horse moved again and he wrapped his hands in a death grip around the front edge of the pommel.

One fur-covered hand cupped his ankle gently. "Does this one need to tie Severus to the horse?" Her tone was light with teasing but the question was earnest.

"No, I'll be alright I think."

She nodded once and returned with the furs. He wrapped the layers around himself gratefully. Pulling on her own fur cloak, hood and gauntlets she shouldered her brown fur pack and took the horses reigns.

She looked up at him, her cat-like face shadowed by the hood. "Tuck the furs about your head, no? Ajiira thinks our path to Riverwood will be slow." Her voice was husky and had a strange lilt and purr.

* * *

Riverwood reminded him of a medieval living history town. The air was cool but smelled of freshly cut wood and the sweetness of summer. It was nestled in a valley against a river with steep mountains on either side. He caught sight of a mill from between straw thatched buildings. People seemed to know and accept Ajiira as she led the horse down the street.

A blond headed child hailed her from a wooden porch. "Ajiira!"

She slowed and raised a hand in greeting. "Frodnar. This one is pleased to see you."

"Wanna hear about my latest prank?" He jumped down the step and pranced over to them.

Ajiira pushed back her hood, her thick dreadlocks spilled over her shoulders. "Better then nailing a gold piece to Lucan's doorstep, yes?"

Frodnar smiled widely, proudly puffing out his chest. "I put bugs in the stew at Sleeping Giant," he stated in a stage whisper.

Ajiira made a sound like a purring rumble. After a moment he realized it was a laugh.

"This one hopes that Orgnar does not find Frodnar is responsible for such mischief-making."

Frodnar grinned again, "I know you won't tell."

Severus found himself sliding sideways at an alarming rate, only to realize that Ajiira had pulled him off of the horse. They were standing on wooden steps that lead up to a small covered porch. An open door spilled a warm golden glow and the sweet sounds of a lute into the gathering twilight. He sank down to sit on the step while Ajiira eased the bundles and saddle off of the horses back. Pressing a few coins in the boy's hand, she shouldered the packs and supported Severus to his feet.

"Don't eat the stew." With a final wave Frodnar took the reins of the horse and led it around the inn.

The inn was warm and bright with the glow of a large central fire. A man hailed them from behind a wooden bar at the far end of the room.

"Fortune smiles upon this meeting, Orgnar," Ajiira called.

Severus was eased into a chair, the furs peeled back and a mug of warm spiced wine pressed into his hands. He was vaguely aware of Ajiira conversing with the man called Orgnar and a severe-looking woman named Delphine. She turned, motioning to him with burning sky-bright eyes. He was ever so tired and the wine warmed him with a delicious thrumming.

A loud voice sounded to Severus's right.

"Come to have a drink with me, sweet Sigrid?"

The redheaded woman looked at the man with pity. "Drunk again, Embry?"

Ajiira returned to his side, blocking out the brightness of the inn. She eased the listing tankard out of his hand with her lovely slender fingers. "Come, chase dreams on a soft bed, yes? Better than furs on your tired bones."

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

He found the next morning, or rather when he woke fully in the early afternoon, that Ajiira had left him with only a promise to the inn owner that she would return within two days. His bed and board were paid for those days with the promise of more gold when she came to collect him. He felt strangely bereft. There was a collection of potion flasks on his bedside table, glowing pink, labeled simply as "Health", a finely wrought dagger of a translucent green material he could have sworn was glass, and a hefty bag of coins. Orgnar assured him that he was free to go but Severus found that he was loath to leave the shelter of the inn.

It had been terribly frightening to realize that his magic was gone. He had never understood how his identity was bound up in his ability to control and master magic until it was ripped away from him. He realized that in this strange world he suddenly had no practical skills. There was no way to tell how far he would get before he was waylaid, defenseless.

He discovered the alchemy lab in the evening.

It was a table set in a corner with shallow hollows and a sort of six-sided hexagram carved into it. He recognized the alembic attached to the back of it but was lost as to how to use it.

Orgnar was bemused when he asked about it. He was helpful enough to give him a recipe written on a scrap of yellowing parchment and several ingredients. Severus watched breathlessly as Orgnar crushed the wheat in the mortar and pestle and heated the sliced blisterwort to a gentle simmer in the chamber of the alembic. After only a few moments the potion pooled in the central hollow of the table and was ready to be ladled into a small flask.

Severus eagerly spent the next several hours recreating the experiment. The alembic was touchy but the heat was easy to adjust. The whole experience was encouraging in his personal magic-starved world.

* * *

It wasn't until the evening of the second day that he remembered his quest and thought of Lily. He sat on the porch of the Sleeping Giant Inn as the air cooled into night with a tankard of cool ale and a chicken dumpling, still warm from the oven. His musings were interrupted by the arrival of a familiar figure on horseback.

Ajiira hailed him, "A peaceful greeting to you, Other-Worlder." She was leading a second horse.

Severus was unaccountably relieved to see her. She would know how to set him on the path to where ever the Dragonborn was being kept. He stood, his hand drifting easily to his hip to rest on the glass dagger. The air was cool but did not have the bite of the north wind and so he stood only in his dark robes, awaiting her at the top step.

Dismounting she gracefully advanced up the steps. "This one will take you to her place. If Severus is willing, yes?"

"Your place?"

"Ajiira has a home." She motioned down the main street. "It is near as this one counts nearness."

He trusted her as he had never trusted anyone else, with her strange face, eyes that were clear of lies, and strange, formal way of speaking.

"From this place Ajiira and Severus will discuss what should be done." She smiled again, "This one is not a mewling kitten: there is a deep reason for Severus to have come to this frozen place."

* * *

_Ajiira is pronounced: A-jy-ear-a_

_Edited for grammar, spelling & punctuation on July 19th, 2013 [courtesy of Claviculae, who is enjoying a delicious double chocolate stout with his Skyrim]. _


	3. Unbound: Chapter 3

**_Act I_**

**_Unbound_**

**_Chapter III_**

* * *

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

* * *

The sky was darkening, heavy with swollen clouds. The wind had picked up, lashing Severus's greasy hair across his cheeks, stinging his eyes. As Lakeview Manor came into view the horses picked up their hooves, knowing they were soon to be home. A call came down from the wall and the gate was lifted for them. The sprawling compound was dominated by a wood framed wattle and daub manor house. Despite its antiquated construction, it struck Severus as more beautiful and home-like than any place he had yet lived.

As Ajiira dismounted the first fat raindrop hit his nose. He lifted one leg over the horse's withers, nearly kicking the horse in the head, and realized too late that he was falling forward. A burly man with avocado tinted skin caught him by the back of his robe and he heard a ripping sound as buttons scattered into the grass.

"Never got off a horse before? Or are ya drunk?" The man righted him with a laugh, giving Severus an excellent view of his huge lower incisors that curled up over his upper lip.

Flushing painfully, Severus clutched his gaping coat together and sidestepped the man. Ajiira held the door for him, pausing to turn back address the figures waiting in the yard.

Severus walked through a small foyer into a room dominated by a long table and a huge stone fireplace. Ajiira came up beside him, quiet as a whisper.

"This one will show you your room, yes?"

There were stairs on either side of the room. She led him up the right and into a room dominated by a large bed covered in a deep green fabric. He had a sudden memory of seeing his small bed in the Slytherin dorms for the first time. It seemed to be a lifetime ago. He touched the edge of the coverlet with reverence. He had thought that Hogwarts would be a refuge and it had turned into something almost like a nightmare.

"A more comfortable robe for you?"

He looked up to see Ajiira holding out a dark linen robe that belted around the waist. He was grateful that she pretended not to notice the ruined wool coat he had brought with him from England, the first clothing he had bought that was not a Hogwarts uniform. He had been so proud of the long cut of the coat and its jet-black buttons marching down the front like a line of solders. Lucius had mocked him for his conservative choice and Severus did not argue.

"Come down when you are ready, yes?" Ajiira left the room on whisper-soft paws.

Slipping into the soft garment, he discarded his ruined clothes on the bed.

* * *

"Why have you come to Nirn?"

They sat at the long table, drinking a spicy red wine from heavy clay goblets.

He wondered that she asked why, not how. "I have to find something for Tom—I mean, Lord Voldemort, and bring it back to my world."

"This thing, Khajiit may know of it, yes?"

Severus stared at her for a long moment. If there was anyone who would help him, it would be Ajiira. Although he had nothing to offer her, she had saved him at personal risk and cost to herself. "He sent me to find the Dragonborn."

Ajiira blinked once.

"I'm not sure if it's a sword or another type of artifact… I don't even know where it is. I'm sorry." He trailed off rather miserably.

"All of Skyrim is eager for the Dragonborn. More time must be taken to discern… ah… its… location, yes?" She patted the hand he had fisted on the tabletop lightly, her claws lightly scraping his skin.

She cleared the table and lay down several large sheets of parchment. The first showed a large continent that was divided into nine sections. "Here you see Nirn, yes? There are three types of races: Mer, or the elves, Human and Beast." She brushed her fingers over the map. "Each keeps their own grudges and cultural complexities, yes, very convoluted."

Severus glanced at her cat face, "You are one of the Beast race?"

She tapped a yellow section of the map labeled Elsweyr. "Ajiira is Khajiit, Desert-walker, a child of the warm sands. The other beast children are the Saxhleel, Argonian."

Severus shrugged.

Ajiira pointed to another area on the map colored green and labeled Black Marsh. "Lizards that walk as men and mer."

Again Severus was unsure what to answer to these strange pronouncements. To cover his confusion he sipped his wine.

She mirrored his action before motioning to a blue country at the top of the map. "Skyrim." Shifting the map she revealed the one that lay beneath, a large map of Skyrim. "This place," she motioned around them, "is here." The point she indicated with one claw was labeled Lakeview Manor. She indicated another icon. "Bleak Falls Barrow on the saddle of the mountain, where you were found."

She pulled a stack of leather bound tomes towards them and motioned for him to take them. The books were worn but felt reassuringly solid in his hands. His fingers curled lovingly around the spines.

"Reading these might help give you more insight into Tamriel." Ajiira sipped her wine, wiping away a few drops that clung to her whiskers like garnet-bright jewels. "It will also keep you occupied while you are resting." She shot him a piercing look.

Apparently he was still looking peaky.

"I can't just wait around here like a lump. My Master," it still felt strange to refer to Tom as his master, "is expecting me to find The Dragonborn as soon as possible."

Ajiira studied him for a long moment, azure eyes bright. "You will be no good to him dead."

There was wisdom in that statement; even Severus had to admit it.

"This one will aid Severus in any way possible."

He glowered, "But?"

"But, Severus must get well and Ajiira must pay her own debts." She smiled, her lips pulling tight over sharp canine teeth.

He bowed his head, turning this over in his mind. Again, if he were honest with himself, he knew he did not yet have the skills to strike out on his own. He would have to trust her for a while yet.

She took his silence for acceptance and stood. "Ajiira will leave you to your reading."

"When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow," and she smiled, her furry lips pulling back over sharp pointed teeth. "We will begin your education in earnest when this one returns."

Severus fingered his useless wand with a sigh.

* * *

He woke early to a small cat face peering at him from the end of the bed. He realized that it was a small Khajiit.

"What are you doing in Mama's bed?" A small plaintive female voice issued from its mouth, her dark ears lying back with disapproval.

Severus pulled the blankets up around his shoulders as though they could act as a shield and glared ferociously. "Ajiira told me to sleep here."

She glared right back, "Well, fine."

"Go away," he finally snapped when it became obvious that she wasn't moving.

She continued to appraise him with large slitted blue eyes. "Who are you?"

"Severus," he snarled attempting to find his robes, left discarded on the floor last night.

"This one is called Ma'isha."

"Fantastic," he groaned, shrugging into his robe and stumbling out of his room in search of the loo.

* * *

The compound of Lakeview Manor extended in all directions. It was nestled against a cliff on one side and bound by a wall on the other three. It enclosed terraced gardens, a stable and animal pen, a watchtower, a cottage, and various shrines that were as mysterious as they were beautiful.

Severus wandered aimlessly, observing the people who bustled around him. The Manor was, of course, the central hub of the little settlement and behind it Severus found an outdoor kitchen facing tiered bathing pools. Easing himself onto a bench he tipped his head back, listening to the sounds of the forest uninterrupted by machinery or industry. The sun was warm and the breeze light and refreshing.

When his stomach began to complain he knelt before the cooking pot and clumsily fed the coals, coaxing it to feed on the dry wood. There was an abundance of fresh produce and meat, wrapped in waxed parchment and stored in barrels that seemed to be charmed to stay glacially cold.

After a simple meal he proudly prepared himself, he pulled out one of the books that Ajiira had given him. The title was Nords of Skyrim surrounded by delicate interconnecting knots. Opening it, he read quickly, enjoying the familiarity of the weight of a book and meditative silence of reading.

"The cities of Skyrim are a testament to Nord ingenuity and craftsmanship. Chief among them are Solitude, seat of the High King and capital of the province; Windhelm, ancient and honored, a jewel in the snow; Markarth, carved into the living rock itself, in ages long since past; Riften, nestled in the golden shadows of the Fall Forest, whence comes delicious fish and mead; and Whiterun, built around the hall of Jorrvaskr, home of the most noble Companions and revered Skyforge." [1]

He felt, rather than saw, Ma'isha creeping up along the pool.

"Will you play with Ma'isha?" her trilling child voice asked.

When he looked at her, really looked at her, he saw a young child, with a child's yearning and excitement. Laying aside his book he nodded and allowed himself to be pulled into a game of tag, a tour of the steading, and packing a picnic dinner for a trip down to the fish hatchery. Her childhood wonder and naivety was surprisingly enjoyable to Severus, who had thought that he disliked children most heartily.

When their stomachs alerted them that it was suppertime, they wandered down to Lake Ilinalta where a dock hugged the sandy shore and a portion of the lake was netted off to cultivate fish.

The keeper introduced himself as Karlin. He had a fire and supplemented their bread and cheese supper with small crisp grilled fish. Severus found himself with a mug of sweet mead in one hand and a small hot grilled fish in the other. Ma'isha ate them with relish, sucking the tender meat off of the curved bones and crunching the fish head with her sharp little teeth. Karlin laughed at his taken aback expression and showed him how to pull the steaming meat off of the bones with his fingers and dip it in a salty sauce flavored strongly with garlic. Karlin kept his mug filled with apple mead and his head filled with stories of his fishing adventures all across Skyrim, each more outrageous than the last, and had them both laughing.

Later, Karlin showed them how to thread and bate the fishing lines. They lay on the dock, the wooden boards still warm from the afternoon sun, bare toes dangling in the water.

The peace was interrupted when a cloaked figure emerged from the tree line. Karlin's hand tightened on the nocked bow he kept at his side.

"Well, is this how you repay your host? Leading her child into danger?" Serana's cutting voice carried across the calm water of the fish hatchery.

Karlin lowered the bow and sighed as Severus turned away, hunching his shoulders.

"I could have killed you both five times over by now."

Ma'isha ran to embrace the woman.

Karlin checked the lines with easy movements. "Have a heart, Serana. They are here with me, en't they. It's too nice a day not ta' fish."

Serana adjusted the strap of the satchel she carried and tugged her hood further over her brow. "I want to get out of this sun. How can you both stand it out here?"

"Are you here for my lesson?" Ma'isha trilled, oblivious to the mature tension.

"Yes, little one." Turning away she ruffled the cat's soft ears. "Come, Other-Worlder; _you_ have work to do as well."

Severus shot a pleading look at Karlin but the big man just shrugged. "Best do as she says. When Lady Cat is gone Lady Blood is in charge."

Sighing, Severus pulled his boots on and slogged up the path after the two chatting women, feeling very much like an errant child. How Serana could make him feel like two feet tall without even trying was a mystery to him. He had graduated from Hogwarts, Lucius was sponsoring his Potions Mastery and Tom told him that he was only this last task away from gaining a coveted position in the Deatheaters. He was a grown man, dammit.

It was evening, when the dusk was falling tenderly, by the time they made it to the front doors of the Manor. All of his new found bravado faded as soon as soon as Serana cocked her dark eyebrow at him, motioning his to sit at the table. It was the same table where he had confessed his mission to Ajiira but that meeting had been comfortable, a meeting of equals, discussing plans. This time it felt more like a school lesson for a delinquent pupil.

Ma'isha was already sitting obediently, her quill scratching across a large sheet of parchment.

"Ajiira does not naturally wield magic, so she has tasked me with your introduction to the subject." Serana made the undertaking sound as though she would rather have her fingernails ripped off.

Severus bristled, "I don't have any magic. I _lost_ it when I came into this wasteland." His anger made him bitter.

Serana was unimpressed. She slammed a stack of books down in front of him. "Ajiira is not so sure… for some reason I can only guess at, she thinks you have potential, greasy and unpleasant though you may be."

"I didn't ask for your help," Severus shot to his feet, hands braced on the table.

Serana leaned towards him. "_You _didn't, but Ajiira did. I owe her a debt that I will _never_ repay… similar to your own debt. For that I submit to her request, and I won't be thwarted by your petulance."

They were but a few fingerbreadths apart now, glaring into each other's faces, breathing raggedly.

Doggedly persisting in his rebellion, Severus attempted to speak evenly, "I don't want your help."

"I don't care. Sit down."

Seven years of trained response to instructors struck and he reacted to the authority in her voice, slamming himself back into his chair.

Wordlessly she passed him the first golden leather bound book labeled Healing Volume 1. He fingered the embossed insignia of a bird with open wings on the cover. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself against the inevitable disappointment, he opened the book. There was a rush, like a furious gust of wind, and a flash of sun-bright light; he could feel a quiet part of his brain roar to life as his knowledge swelled. In a moment he was left panting in the chair, the book was gone and in its place, a thin layer of blue tinged dust coated his hands and lap.

"Can you cast it?" Ma'isha watched him excitedly from her chair, her own lesson forgotten.

Across the table Serana cupped one hand and a glowing sphere of light appeared in her palm. Severus mirrored her movements sluggishly, as though in a trance. The knowledge inside of him grew from a flickering flame into a full roar. His power burst out, encapsulating his hand and sending a warm breeze skittering around them. It lifted his hair and sent the papers floating off of the tabletop.

When he closed his hand he was pale and shaken, feeling a magical drain from the wild, close magic that had pressed through his veins, singing as it burned.

Ma'isha laughed in delight and clapped her hands.

* * *

The next morning was bright and warm; the air was sweet and full of the aroma of summer. Severus lugged the rest of the spell books out of doors and crept down to the watchtower, skirting the apiary warily. He hoped to avoid Serana at all cost.

Seating himself in the sweet smelling grass in the shade of the apple trees, he selected the next book. It too was golden leather, supple to the touch, with the embossed bird prominent on the cover. It was labeled on the spine Lesser Ward. Steeling himself, he cracked the cover. It didn't hurt, per say, but it was like forcibly cramming himself through a very tight space and coming out on the other side winded yet wiser.

A stick cracked on his right and he scrambled to his feet, drawing his green glass dagger. Instead of Serana he found himself face to face with one of the guards. She had dark grey tinged skin and red eyes.

"Muthsera,"[2] her voice was deep and earthy, surprising from her delicate feminine face. "I am Ivramie." She glanced from the point of his extended dagger to his flushed face.

Severus sheathed it clumsily, feeling foolish, and wiped sweaty palms on his robes. "Severus... Severus Snape."

She smiled showing white teeth in her dusky face.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously.

"Learning magic?" Her voice, for all its deepness, was warm.

"Trying."

"May I help?"

Severus frowned, "I don't see how."

Ivramie smiled again, "I was once a teacher at the College of Winterhold. Magic is honed by practice, building strength and endurance."

"College?"

"The mages' College in the north." A shadow passed over her face as some memory surfaced. "I no longer teach Conjuration, but I would be delighted to help you with your Restoration spells."

Severus allowed her to lead him out of his hiding place and into the sunlight of the drill yard.

He spent a long afternoon holding up glowing blue shielding enchantments and invoking the warmth of the healing incantation.

* * *

The next morning, Celesta found him wandering in the gardens. She introduced herself as an Alchemist. She was brisk and professional, and reminded him of Minerva McGonagall.

Celesta set him to work in the cellar of the watchtower almost at once. He was glad to go, hoping that if Serana was lurking about she would not find him. Celesta showed him how to make waxed parchment. Spreading out the thick creamy paper on the table and ladling a scoop of liquid wax from a hot brazier, she used a dull ivory blade to spread the wax in a thin layer over the sheet. When she finished the first sheet she motioned for him to continue in her stead.

Willow, her quiet assistant, stood at a nearby table using a glinting steal blade to cut the finished parchment into smaller envelope shaped pieces.

When he tried to speak with her she smiled shyly but answered slowly, stammering and fumbling.

He gazed longingly at the alchemy table but Celesta only shook her head. "I may be an Expert Alchemist but Ajiira is a Master; she will train you when she returns."

Just when he felt his back couldn't hunch over the table a second longer, and his fingertips were burning and raw, Celesta called a halt to the work. Taking a thick stack of the different sized envelopes, she led them into the gardens. Willow obviously knew this work but she stood quietly to the side, bearing a basket for them.

Celesta showed him how to snap off the blossoms of the purple, red, and blue mountain flowers and wrap them in the wax-lined parchment envelopes, keeping their essences separate and their properties pure. She showed him how to wipe his knife after prying lichen and mushrooms loose. She pointed out the brilliant azure-purple deathbells and lavender nightshade, both extremely poisonous.

The black earth smelled of the secrets of green growing things, rich and loamy. He buried his pale hands in it, glorying in the work.

* * *

It was three days before the cry when up at the wall that the Khajiit had returned. Ajiira seemed weary, even her whiskers drooped, her lovely leather and mail armor singed and soot stained as though by a great fire. She had brought someone with her, a tall forbidding looking woman who dressed in full plate armor called Lydia who called Ajiira her "Thane". Ajiira was closed mouth about what strange thing had happened but Lydia answered a few questions in an undertone that Severus was to far away to overhear.

A murmur went through the assembled household: a dragon at the Western Watchtower near Whiterun, brought down by Ajiira herself; a shiver, a sigh, and a tension.

"Lydia, Khajiit's housecarl. She will tend you as this one goes abroad. She is a free woman who has freely bound herself to Ajiira's service." It was painfully clear that only Ajiira's iron will held her upright, so exhausted as she was.

Leaning heavily on the low garden wall, she introduced the household. The four guards included the mages: Ozra and Ivramie, and the sword bearers: Keith, and Liesl. Nargul was the orsimer[3] blacksmith and stable master. There were three gardeners: the foster of the extensive food gardens: Daisy; the overseer of the apothecial, magical, and medicinal gardens: Celesta and her stammering assistant: Willow. Chell, the coffee-skinned cook, stood in her flour-smeared apron. Karlin, the fisherman, had even ventured away from his small cottage by the water and come up to the great house, bowing and quiet. Ma'isha was introduced, of course, as her daughter.

Severus hung back, unsure of his position in her household. Seeking him out with bright eyes, she motioned him forward, "Severus, my apprentice."

And that, he supposed, was that.

* * *

Ajiira didn't emerge from her bed until late the next evening. She dressed in a soft robe, bearing her armor over one arm. She discarded it into Nargul's capable hands, busying herself in the coolness of the wine cellar. Severus was swept up in the preparations for the elaborate evening meal, fetching and carrying things for Ajiira from the cellar, taking a turn in rotating the spit, and setting the table with Ma'isha.

The whole household trooped inside the great house for dinner. Serana was still strangely absent and Severus was beginning to suspect that she came and went as she pleased. Ajiira seated him at her left hand and Lydia at her right, cementing both of their places in the small hierarchy of Lakeview Manor.

A feast, rustic perhaps, but extensive, was spread before them. Ajiira poured the wine and ale herself from the sideboard, and it was obvious she knew the tastes and desires of her people; even Ma'isha was given a small glass of watered down honeyed apple wine. Ajiira pressed a heavy goblet of dark red wine into his hand with a grin. The talk was loud and boisterous as they welcomed their obviously much-beloved mistress, affectionately called Lady Cat, home. Lydia, the housecarl, had settled into her role as the steward of the holding with grace and ease, accepting her new title of Lady Sword with good grace.

The meal began with a laughing rumble as Chell and Willow bore weighty platters from the kitchen to the long table, dressed with the finest silver settings. To begin, there was a small cup of potato soup, thickly creamy and liberally flavored with salty bacon, served beside dark crumbling bread. Then Chell brought out crisp, flaky pastries stuffed with savory vegetables and tender beef. Karlin passed salmon, grilled on cedar planks, flavored with spicy mustard and sweet honey. Nargul hefted the thick roast of venison from the spit over the fire onto a great silver platter and slathered it in piney, earthy juniper and sweet lingonberry jelly. He carved generous pieces from the far end of the table. Besides the larger dishes, a series of platters bearing small sides were passed with much praise. It seemed that each member of the household had prepared his or her favorite dish to contribute. Small crisp cakes of shredded potato and carrot with garlic, a cold salad of tomato slices and goat cheese smothered in slightly sweet dark vinegar, salmon roe heaped up on toasted buttery bread slices, almond apple salad, a shredded meat brewet in a thin cinnamon sauce, and a sliced oat bread for sopping up the delicious sauces that spread across the diner's large plates; all passed around the benches until the whole table was covered with rich foods.

Over the meal the true tale of Ajiira's last few days came out. She had gone from the steading to Whiterun to deliver an artifact called the Dragonstone she and Serana had retrieved from Bleak Falls Barrow. While she was in the city, a dragon was sighted near the Western Watchtower and what had begun as a simple delivery turned into a battle. It was plain, even to Severus, how much this strange little family cared for one another. Beside him, Ma'isha's face was alight with a fierce love for her mother. The others laughed and joked but were clearly relieved that she had survived.

After the meal Ma'isha was sent to bed with a very bad grace and a sweet roll. Chell brought out the sweets and Ajiira poured spiced wine for those who wanted it, and plain shots of Daisy's Blackberry Brandy, Colovian Brandy or Stros M'Kai Rum for those who didn't. Karlin stuck by his mead and Nargul took a whole bottle of the rum, taking swigs straight from the bottle between his prominent lower canine teeth. Raw honeycomb, apple cinnamon pies, spiced glazed rolls and trays of fresh berries accompanied by fresh cream were passed and a drowsy contentment settled on the party.

Ajiira kept both of their glasses filled from the same bottle and everyone else seemed comfortable enough to retrieve their own liquor. The candles burned low and talk turned to the running of the manor and its lands. A new keg of ale would need to be ordered soon. Ozra would rebuild the smoke house this week. The chickens were thriving and laying well. Perhaps another apiary should be build so as to make more mead. It was comfortingly mundane. Keith and Ozra began to sing in a low lilting harmony.

"We drink to our youth, to days come and gone. For the age of aggression is just about done."[4]

Surprisingly, quiet Willow fetched a lute and began to pluck the strings with no small amount of skill.

When a dark figure settled in Ma'isha's abandoned chair Severus didn't bother to look up, too busy watching the wine swirling in his silver goblet.

A conversation began over his seat.

"Ajiira was not sure you would be back so soon. Drink?"

"Argonian Bloodwine if you have it. The roads are empty this time of night, and I run quickly." Serana's voice washed over him; she spoke to Ajiira with the intimacy of friends who know that just a few words are able to convey a wealth of information and an understanding of what is left unsaid.

He straightened as a bottle and goblet were passed to the dark haired woman. She glared at him with those strange fire glowing eyes before pouring a cupful of the thick, black liquid. To Severus it looked positively vile.

He slumped back against the padded back of the chair, taking a long drink of his wine. Lydia caught his eyes across the table and arched an eyebrow, jerking her head towards Serana in question. Severus shrugged and scowled into his cup.

"My errand is done, I am at your disposal."

Ajiira laughed, a purring sound, "Khajiit thinks we will have need of the caravan. Perhaps you will meet us in but a few short days at Half Moon Mill?"

"Done. And what of your protégé?" Her voice was slightly mocking.

"Tomorrow we begin combat training."

* * *

He woke with a pounding headache from a late night and too much wine. Rolling onto his side with a groan he caught sight of a flagon set near a cup and a plate of hot scones. Reaching for it he took a long drink; it tasted herbal and light. Within moments he felt much better, realizing it must be a sort of hangover remedy.

Pulling on his boots and stuffing a scone into his mouth, he headed for the stairs and passed into the courtyard.

Ajiira was speaking to Lydia, several quivers and bows slung across her back. When she saw him she raised a hand in greeting. Clasping Lydia's arm in farewell, she led him around the house to the practice field. She lead him in a series of stretches before presenting him with a light wooden bow. She strung the bow for him, drawing the bowstring between two pieces of beeswax before hooking it on the nock.

"A training bow, to build strength." She smiled at him, positioning his hand correctly on the leather grip in the middle of the limb of the bow.

On his right hand she slid an archers gauntlet with a spined forearm bracer and a built in tab between the index and middle finger that the nock of the arrow rested between.

It was slightly awkward but fit him perfectly, like a second skin. He learned to draw the bow, to handle his "technique" as Ajiira put it.

"How joyful it would be if one could learn to fight and defend without the tiresome work of learning good technique, but Ajiira is a slave driver and though it may not be a romantic idea, foreign to the thrills of primitive enjoyment, you will learn how to shoot in the most efficient and effortless way."

He found that she was not exaggerating. They began without arrows, practicing the draw. Stretching the cord so that his elbow was level with his shoulders and bow arm, the filament caressing the middle of his chin, his beaklike nose resting lightly on the twine. She held his drawing hand in such a way that the back was relaxed and in line with his drawing arm. He kept his bow arm slightly bent, even though he desired to tense and hold it straight and rigid.

She stood closely behind him, her chest to his back, for the first fifty arrows. She steadied his left hand lightly against the limb of the bow until he knew with intimate surety its feeling in his palm, holding the bow mainly by the pressure on the pad of his thumb.

He carefully placed an arrow on the bow, nocking it so that the third line of fetching faced outward. Stretching the bowstring back, deep breath, cord against his chin, counting two seconds and with an even distribution of pushing pressure on the bow and pulling counter pressure on the string led by the muscles of the shoulder. She drew back with him, holding his hand steady at the nockpoint, until he knew the feeling of the tension of the arrow as though it were a part of him. Almost reverently he relaxed his fingers and allowed them to come off of the twine, loosing the arrow.

When he had made some progress with the training bow Ajiira presented him with a hunting bow. It was a recurve bow, the tips bent away from the archer when she strung it. The string touched sections of the limb near the nock points and she was quick to point this out.

"The recurve," she gently touched the graceful arc, "allows the shorter limb length. It is better for carrying through the brush of the forest… and horseback riding." She shot him a teasing look, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Humf," Severus muttered, accepting the bow and repeating the process of finding the ancient rhythm hidden within the weapon.

After some time, when his arm was burning, Ajiira announced, "Tomorrow we will go out, to hone your skills."

She watched him tend to his first real bow, unstringing, wiping it down and checking the grip and nock points for wear, with a proud expression.

He went to bed, blood singing in excitement.

* * *

They set off early; the dew was still wet on the ground and the dawn was fledgling and murky. Ajiira travelled quickly—skirting the southern fringe of Lake Ilinalta, gliding through the woods on light feet. They moved with grace and speed through the forest, dancing with the shadows and blending into the environment.

They emerged from the tree cover onto the cobbled road near a mill. The air was clear and just brightening. The water wheel made a soft liquid noise. There was the dark shape of a cart on the rough stone bridge. The figure astride the horse raised their arm in greeting.

It was Serana, eyes glowing under her low dark hood, a smirk flirting with her mouth. Ajiira leapt gracefully up into the buck seat and extended a clawed hand down to him. He scrambled up beside her, wrapping himself more tightly in his cloak and turning his face towards the dawn.

* * *

_[1] Nords of Skyrim by Hrothmund Wolf-Heart_

___[2] __Muthsera- A Dunmer/Dark Elf term of respect._

___[3] __Orsimer- literally "Pariah Ones", also called Orcs, a variant type of elves._

_[4] The Age of Aggression_

* * *

_Edited for tense, Khajiit speech patterns, grammar, spelling & punctuation (mostly commas) on July 28th & 29th, 2013 [courtesy of __Claviculae, who feels a strange compulsion to finally complete Dawnguard]. _


	4. Unbound: Chapter 4

**_Act I_**

**_Unbound_**

**_Chapter IV_**

* * *

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

* * *

The drive was quiet, the air was laden with the spices of summer, the gentle sound of the water mill fading, the droning of bees, the wind shivering through the tree tops, and the creak and groan of the caravan. The sky lightened from dusky blue to brilliant golden-red with every passing minute. The spicy pine forests and mountains gave way as the road sloped gently down into the tundra. As soon as they passed the timberline he could feel a cool wind pick up and stir his hair as it touched his cheeks.

They set up camp in a depression in the land that was hidden until you came almost to the edge of it. The caravan was stopped and the sides unfolded to afford shelter for a primitive smithy and a kitchen. At the outer edges Serana and Ajiira worked in tandem to erect two large tents. Severus filled one with a layer of soft sweet smelling hay for the horse. The other was lined with furs and housed bedrolls. When the camp was adjusted to Ajiira likening she announced that they would depart directly for their training.

She had begun to call him Ma'Severus, which she explained meant literally "apprentice". She said it so affectionately that Severus could not take offense.[1]

She pressed a package into his arms and shooed him into the sleeping tent. Unwrapping the bundle, he found a set of supple armor that equaled Ajiira's. There were dark breeches with reinforced knees and a soft linen undershirt. A delicate chainmail tunic made of some unfathomably featherweight silvery metal and a knee length coat of leather, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows. There was also a stiff brocade length of cloth and several belts of leather and linen, as well as a myriad of buckles and ties. Half dressed, Severus sheepishly peaked out of the tent; thankfully Serana was nowhere in sight. Ajiira lounged near the cooking fire.

"Shall this one tighten your laces?" she asked mildly.

He nodded, grateful for her delicate handling of his ineptitude.

She resettled the mail on his shoulders and tightened the small buckles under his arms. Next, she settled the stiff brocade stomach panel and he shrugged on the coat. She wrapped the length of creamy linen thrice around his skinny hips and belted him securely with a tooled leather belt from which several pouches hung.

The hem of the coat brushed his knees as he twisted this way and that trying to catch a proper glimpse of himself in his finery. The coat was dark leather with panels of brocade and dark silk embroidered with stars of golden thread. The edging all glimmered softly, the sturdy leather laces threaded alongside slender gold fibers. He wondered what kind of fortune he was wearing.

For his feet, there were dark boots, buckled all way up to knee, and gauntlets that left his fingers free to grasp the bow and slender shafts of arrows. The right glove had a built-in tab for the arrow nock to rest.

Ajiira looked him up and down. "You are very fine. How does it feel, Ma'Severus?"

The fabric was stiff with all its reinforced bits and heavy with the crackle of enchantments that Severus didn't understand yet, but it fit him perfectly. The sleeves had enough give to make the draw of the stiff bowstring seamless and the breaches were loose enough to allow for wide loping strides.

"Just fine," Severus demurred, dipping his dead and securing his twin daggers on the back of his belt.

Ajiira shouldered a small pack and passed Severus a dark hood. He scrambled behind her as she set off at a brisk pace northward, out of their home-hollow.

She led him to a small ruin where an altar was set out in the shape of anvil.

"Stendarr in the pantheon of the Nords, S'rendarr in the Khajiit pantheon." She made a sign of respect before it and scattered red mountain flowers at its base.[2]

"You serve multiple gods?" Severus turned this idea that seemed so heathen over in his mind. "I don't believe in any deity," he finally said smugly.

Ajiira quirked an eyebrow, "One cannot go wrong applying to the God of Mercy."

Something in her tone had him looking at her shrewdly. "Do _you_ serve gods?"

"Perceptive, Ma'Severus." She finished her ministrations and led him out of the makeshift temple. "This one serves her family first." She motioned around them, "Second, Nirni, the majestic sands and lush forests of this plane and her people, and thirdly the Daedra. The Aedra have done nothing for Ajiira." Her voice was hard and brittle. "So Ajiira does not serve them particularly." After a few moments of thoughtful silence she added, "Khajiit serve a different pantheon than the Nords regardless." Slanting a teasing look in his direction she added, "There is a book, if you are interested."

Severus's answering smile was genuine.

She took him north, through the plain ringed by mountains, rising like jagged teeth in the distance. Severus was slow and ungainly, unused to traveling at a quick speed for long periods of time. Ajiira coached him on finding a rhythm to his steps. They kept up a brisk pace, although to Severus it felt punishing, as the morning passed into midday.

As they began to ascend a gentle rise Ajiira crouched and motioned for him to do the same, cautioning, "Shhh, giants are about."

Talking Stone Camp spread itself over the top of a small rise surrounding a bonfire several times taller than Severus himself. Ajiira used a wooden bowl to help herself to a thick yellow-curded substance out of a huge hide pouch. She tossed him a sly wink and led him to the right toward the sound of rushing water. Creeping, they made their way to the banks of the river.

The River Hjaal was strong and wild, untamed and teaming with life; they followed it more slowly now. It was only an hour after noon but the sun was not hot, the gentle gusting wind keeping them cool in their armor. Hoods pushed back, they scrambled along the banks, filling their pouches with berries and hunting crabs in the shallows.

A deer startled on the opposite bank and almost before he had time to think he had notched his bow and sent the arrow aloft. It flew true and sank deeply into the vital area directly behind the front joint of the leg, halfway between the bottle of the chest and the leg. It crumpled and Severus gaped.

Ajiira clapped him on the shoulder approvingly and forded the river to tend to the kill.

Before lunch they swam in the cool water, catching dragonflies and splashing, washing the dirt and sweat away with a cake of Ajiira's fragrant goldenrod-yellow soap. Dripping dry on a grassy bank they lunched, fresh bread spread with pungent melted mammoth cheese from the small fire Ajiira coached him into building. They fried strips of the venison Severus had brought down and ate them with their fingers, the juice dripping down their wrists. He licked each finger clean, savoring the taste of meat caught by his own hands. His appetite was the best it had ever been, bolstered by the constant exercise, fresh air, and abundant fare.

They napped on the bank for a few hours, contented and calm. When they were dry, clean, and rested they donned their armor and took to hunting again, creeping through the wind-stirred grasses.

Severus wondered if this was what summers were supposed to be like. He recalled the stories of summer holidays that his more affluent schoolmates had shared with him. Granted, he doubted that many of them enjoyed camping or that there was much true hunting to be done in modern England, but the lazy contentment of a day spent without time or agenda, lived as though the present was the only object, seemed to be a common theme.

As evening crept up from the east, Ajiira adopted a leisurely pace, well suited to his fatigue. They rested often in the grasses, identifying and gathering alchemy ingredients as they went. She showed him lavender, tundra cotton, the mountain flowers that grew in abundance. With her lightning reflexes she snatched dragonflies and butterflies cleanly from the air. Severus attempted to duplicate her actions and his unsuccessful efforts had them both chuckling. Severus couldn't remember a time that failure had ever been acceptable.

They trotted into camp as the sun began to streak the sky a vibrant crimson, laden with hides and cuts of meat.

Four furred Khajiit faces turned to regard them and eight pointed ears swiveled forward at their approach.

"Friends," Ajiira stepped forward, clasping the nearest one on the arm in greeting.

Someone had been hard at work, it seemed, and a new addition to the camp had been erected. A tall wooden smokehouse stood proudly near the back of the caravan. It was chinked with clay and had a small latching door at the bottom. A hollow had been dug less than a few steps away and a fire already burned in it. The draft of the cool wind over the top of the structure drew the smoke through an underground channel and up through the top of the smokehouse.

"Khajiit are returning to Markarth and sought your company for a night." He motioned to the smokehouse proudly. "We do not come empty handed, remembering our conversation the last time we were pleased to meet."

Ajiira smiled and explained to Severus, who hung back slightly from the little gathering. "This one desired a smokehouse light enough to be transported."

The other three cats, archer Atahbah, warrior Khayla, and the surly elemental mage Ma'randru-jo, took the meat and began preparing cuts to be hung.

When the two moons, greater Jode and lesser Jone, nestled close and bright in the night sky, and the last of the fried venison had been devoured and the last drops of the creamy potato and thick mammoth cheese soup had been sopped up with buttery bread crusts, the evening turned to stories and wine. Ajiira had a wax package from Chell of the tasty circular Skolebrød[3], still soft and scented with spicy cardamom.

Ma'randru-jo pulled out a shallow bowl with a sly look and passed it around the circle. It was full of pale pieces of what looked like hard candy. Atahbah and Khayla each took a generous palm full and passed it to him. Ajiira placed a hand on his arm and shot Ma'randru-jo a hard look.

"Moonsugar, a crystal made from the canes of certain grasses in Elsweyr. Take only a small piece if you wish, for it is a powerful drug."

Ma'randru-jo only raised a sardonic eyebrow, which was all the dare that Severus needed to select a small lavender-hued piece out of the bowl.

It exploded on his tongue, lemony and spicy like cumin, exotic sumac. He sank easily into a warm feeling of euphoria as the conversation swelled around him. He noticed distantly that Ajiira passed the bowl without partaking and observed him closely.

The ecstasy of the moment loosened Severus's tongue. "Where do you come from, Ri'saad?"

"The Khajiit hail from a distant land called Elsweyr, bordered on the north by Cyrodiil and the south by the glistening blue waters of the sea. Elsweyr is an arid land of deserts and rocky canyons, where the sun shines warmly, always. There are cities so ancient, the sands have swallowed them whole. But now I will say no more, for I miss my home greatly."[*]

Ri'saad spoke with such longing for his homeland that Severus felt compelled to continue. "Why are you here in Skyrim?"

"An astute question, for we are far from home and this is a cold, hard land. The wise trader finds the best opportunities, even if he must travel far to find them. Skyrim is a ripe opportunity indeed."[*]

The rest of the Khajiit murmured and nodded. "Var var var."_[4]_

Severus turned to look at Ajiira. "And you?"

"This one was raised by just such a trading caravan as this. Who can say whether the sire and dam of Ajiira are still alive somewhere or not." She spoke gently but flatly, as someone who had come to terms with an old pain. "Such is how this one found Ma'isha. She was traveling with Ri'saad. He took excellent cares with her but the way of the road is no place for kitten."

Ri'saad nodded seriously as he and Ajiira shared a look of understanding. "A fine sei'dar."_[5]_

Ajiira rolled her bright eyes and made a dismissive motion with her elegant hand.

"Ma'isha isn't _your_ daughter?" Severus's curiosity made his voice shrill.

Ajiira laughed, a purring rumble. "She is Ajiira's daughter by all but blood."

Severus took a deep drink of the fruity-vanilla red wine to cover his perplexity. Conversations continued around him but a deep drowsiness overcame him and he drifted of to sleep, slumped over next to Ajiira, his head resting on her thigh. Through slitted sleepy eyes he saw Ma'randru-jo clever fingers slipping and sliding over the pouches at his belt. Ajiira's hand came down with a smack. Just before he passed over into dreams he heard Ajiira's voice rumble, "Keep your fingers out of his pockets. If you even consider touching him again, Ma'randru-jo, this one will kill you herself."

* * *

The next morning he woke in his underclothes inside the bed tent. From the warm light filtering in the open tent he surmised that it late morning. He hurried to wash his face and neck in the silver basin and struggled into his armor. He left the coat flapping open, still struggling with the belts and buckles. In his hurry he all but fell out of the tent and landed almost directly in Ajiira's lap. She sat at the cook fire, her ears laid back.

"Ma'Severus."

He tried to scramble to his feet but her strong hand on his shoulder prevented it. She searched his face arduously, studying his eyes, listening to his breathing, and with a gentle but firm hand, taking his pulse.

Finally satisfied she said roughly, "How do you feel?"

Suddenly shy he looked away; something about her frank appraisal flustered him. "Alright… why?"

Her ears flicked forward and she huffed.

Ignoring him, she stirred the hot cereal that bubbled over the fire. "Today we will learn more about alchemy. But first, breakfast."

A half hour later, when Ajiira was finally satisfied with what he has eaten, he was lead into the body of the caravan. It was lined with shelves and chests but at the far end there was a stretch of counter with two workstations laid out.

"An Arcane Enchanter and an Alchemy Lab." Ajiira motioned him over to the more familiar table and lit the fire underneath the alembic. "Usually this one would let a student experiment but Ajiira aims to expedite your education, no?"

She perched on his left and opened a large chest, stuffed with wax envelops of different sizes. "You will taste each ingredient. Some will be unpleasant," she motioned towards a crate of the glowing pink potions of health. "Some will be strange, but nothing will harm you permanently."

Severus fidgeted; the idea of testing ingredients by mouth frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

"Celesta told me you are a Master Alchemist."

She smiled and nodded proudly. It was such a disarmingly sweet pride that Severus was filled with a sudden rush of affection for his strange tutor.

"You are worried, Ma'Severus? Ajiira will taste with you. Nothing will be asked of you that Khajiit would not do herself." She selected the first few packages. "Usually an alchemist must spend much money and time collecting and experimenting with different ingredients. It has taken Ajiira a long time to gain mastery, but with a worthy guide the process can be sped up. Today you will discover all the base ingredient effects by brewing fifty-six potions. Are you prepared?"_[6]_

Severus swallowed and nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation. "How much gold are those ingredients worth?" He asked quietly.

She blinked at him nonplussed. "Ma'Severus—You are Ajiira's apprentice—it is her duty to provide for you."

He bit his lip, and shifted on his feet. "But my debt to you is growing…"

Ajiira waved away his bashful attempts at negotiating. "You repay Ajiira with your company and if you attend your lessons soon you will be brewing well enough to gather materials and brew potions yourself to sell for much gold. We can speak of reparation at such a time."

Severus's desire for knowledge outweighed his vanity in the face of her sincerity. Throwing caution to the wind he accepted the corner of the papery beehive husk and followed her leading by placing it on his tongue. With a rush similar to his experience with the spell books he smugly declared, "Resist Poison."

Ajiira broke off a small twig from a root called Canis and they repeated the process.

Many hours later they sat side by side on the floor of the caravan, the door open to admit the evening breeze, drinking deeply from the same bottle of spiced wine. Three large crates sat in front of them, holding the afternoon's efforts. They both looked with pleasure in the plethora of glowing bottles of different colors and sizes, each carefully labeled in Severus's own spiky handwriting.

This was how Serana found them, halfway on their way to intoxication, reveling in their achievement.

Severus met her glowing gaze angrily, daring her to say something cutting. To his surprise she only laughed and held up two more bottles, one of her disgusting Bloodwine and another spiced wine.

"It looks like you accomplished your goals. Congratulations. Are you going to have some dinner with that wine?"

Ajiira and Severus stumbled to their feet, leaning on each other and giggling; the full extent of their indulgence becoming clear as the stumbled forward out of the caravan, carefully avoiding the cases.

"Dinner and stories!" Ajiira exalted, gathering the ingredients for a rich fish soup.

Serana refused any of the soup and the dense potato bread, studded with garlic cloves and rosemary, fresh from the hot griddle and dripping with butter, saying that she had already eaten. She seemed friendlier tonight and, at Ajiira's urging, began to explain a little of how she had been adopted into the cat's hodgepodge of a family.

"She freed me from a… er… long imprisonment. My parents were at odds and I was something of a pawn between them."

Ajiira snorted, sopping the soup with a generous hunk of bread. "That might be a bit of an understatement."

"Perhaps," Serana shrugged and stared off into the middle distance, her face softening in a way that Severus could never have imagined. "I mean, my family—we have never been normal but I had hoped at one point to reconcile and to be a family again, but unfortunately after the long altercation it became clear that we could never be what I wanted. I wasn't even sure if we deserved that happiness at all." Ajiira reached over and squeezed Serana's knee lightly. Serana smiled a little before continuing in a stronger voice, "Ajiira did more for me in the brief beginning of our relationship than either of my parents had for centuries. My father always knew that his actions would end with my return bearing hatred for his household and way of life. We—I," she amended quietly, "dealt him the killing blow. Although my mother has returned to our ancestral home and I visit her often I realized that Ajiira was my true sister."

The silence stretched until Ajiira turned to regard Severus over the merry fire. "What of your family?"

They all resettled themselves and took deep drinks as Severus took a deep breath, the words and stories he had long cradled so hidden and close welling up to spill out of his mouth.

"In my world magic is hidden—only some people have it. My mother did but she married someone who didn't. I think… I think it might have been all right for a little while but she hid her magic, maybe too well, and—it broke her. She would hear people—voices—that weren't there. Sometimes she would have to do strange things; it was like a compulsion."

"Hnn?" Ajiira hummed.

He tried to clarify, "Counting bricks in the walls, avoiding certain steps, or touching all the lamp posts on the street. Or she would forget things—leave pots of food on the lit stove… forget to put on all her clothes."

I was…" he ducked his head in shame, "I was glad to leave—to try to be normal. I was so relieved. I just left her—left her there with him."

No one spoke, but the silence was not judgmental and he found the strength to continue his explanations.

"Children who have magical abilities go to a special school when they turn eleven. The day I got my letter was the happiest day of my life. My father was as abusive man whose anger burned hot and wild; he beat my mother until he had broken her beyond recognition and began to beat me. Summers, when I returned from school, were the worst times of my young life."

"How old are you, Ma'Severus?"

"Nineteen," he said stiffly. "I finished school last year. It's summer in England now. My birthday is after the winter solstice."

"Your sire and dame? Where are they?"

"Dead—dead and I'm glad." He snarled rebelliously before dissolving into humiliating tears. He felt her embrace and for once in his life, had no desire to turn away from the comfort another person offered.

* * *

Severus regarded the aged gray stone pillar from which a lonely tattered flag waved. Ajiira scattered a few flowers at its base in solemn silence before turning back to him. "An ancient battle took place here, on this plane. Some say that you can still see a ghost here at times: a woman, hunting for her husband who has been taken from her."

Severus spread one hand over the cool stone, and rested his forehead against it, feeling suddenly despondent at the thought of war and drained from his emotional outburst the night before. Even the sky reflected his despondency with heavy clouds and a rushing wind that bent the grass flat before its gusts.

They traveled slowly today, in a closer arch around the camp. Ajirra took him from the monument northeast, to a pool where the ancient corpse of a gigantic mudcrab presided over its smaller brethren. They harvested ingredients silently and crept over the low hills, eyes trained for game. There was nothing beyond that moment when the arrow was released with a twang and the prey fell under his hand. England and its problems and demands seemed so far away. His heavy quest and dark thoughts forgotten, Severus hunted.

Around noon their peace was shattered by a deep call that shook the foundations of the earth and reverberated through Severus's very bones.

"Dovahkiin!"_[7]_

Ajiira's head snapped up, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring, murmuring, "This one was afraid of something like this." She turned and headed for the camp quickly.

Severus followed confusedly, watching her saddle the horse and gather her pack and weapons.

Finally she turned to him and extended a hand. "You will come with Ajiira, yes?"

"Where?" He asked bewildered.

"Ivarstead, a small town on the far side of the Throat of the World. Ajiira has business there."

Although his confusion was great, his trust was strong and he nodded, turning away only to gather his thick fur cloak.

She hauled him up behind her and the horse pranced. Severus clung to her waist, the edges of her quiver digging into his chest. She made an amused sound and loosened his hold so that she could take the quiver off and hook it close at hand on the saddle. Unimpeded he cuddled close to her back, wrapping the voluminous fur cloak tightly about both their shoulders.

The horse set off, at a steady pace. They went by the main road, able to travel quicker over that even surface than over the pocked and stony countryside. It was hours of hard riding and they passed through the tundra downs and dales. The city of Whiterun, bound by an ancient crumbling wall, sprawled over one of the highpoints of the plain. He could see a magnificent stone stronghold crested with the decorative wooden carved peaks. It sat boldly at the top of the hill, rising up as though it had the roots of some living thing sunk deep into the earth. Ajiira told him it was called Dragonsreach.

"We will come back, and you will see the city properly," she assured him.

He followed the outline of the settlement longingly until they crossed the stone bridge over the White River and curved away; the river gully yawning and sharp on one side and the beginning heights of the foot of the great mountain, the Throat of the World, on the right.

The landscape was changing as well. The trees grew taller and closer together, the grasses more lush and the air scented with wet greenness. There were silver-barked birch, cloaked in golden leaves, bronzy beech and dark, spicy pine. As they traveled, skirting the mountain, they climbed in altitude until they crested the last hill and stood in the shadow of a modest wall and gate of the tiny town of Ivarstead. The town sprawled over a peninsula that clung to the edge of the river on one side and Lake Geir on the other. It was a small hamlet, reminding Severus of Riverwood.

Ajiira dismounted and hefted her pack, edgy and drawn. "Go up to Vilemyr Inn. This one will return, late tomorrow or early the following morning."

"Can't I come up with you?" Severus eyed the steep path across the bridge as it twisted transversely on the face of the mountain. It was called the 7,000 Steps and Ajiira had told him that her object was a secretive monastery at the very top.

She clasped his shoulders and shook her head. "Ajiira doubts that they would let you into High Hrothgar. Please, wait for this one's return."

"But why will they let you in then?" Severus whined, but Ajiira was already loping away at a steady jog and seemed not to hear him.

He watched her from the shadow of the gate until she had made the first switchback and disappeared from sight. With a heavy sigh he turned back toward the beckoning shelter of the inn.

* * *

___[*] In-game dialogue. _

_[1] "M" or "Ma" means "child" or "apprentice"… and interestingly enough: "virgin", although I doubt that Ajiira would admit to being able to tell **that** about our favorite Severus. I struggled with this: whether to use "Ma" or "Ja" (which means "a bachelor" or "young adult") but decided that Severus has to earn that title. _

_[2] Information here and following on Khajiit religion can be found in Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi, a book of lore seen in Morrowind & Skyrim._

_[3] Skolebrød (translated School Bread), also known as a Boiled Cream Treat in-game, is a Norwegian dessert rather like a donut with the hole filled with a custard/pudding/boiled-cream. _

_[4] "Var Var Var." This expression translates from Khajiit into "What will be will be." or "It is just so."_

_[5] Sei'dar translates "an act of selflessness"._

_[6] This is very possible and even recommended. Check out the Skyrim:Alchemy page on the uesp wiki for the full list if interested. _

_[7] This is a deliberate reorganization of the canon timeline._

* * *

_Check out the weblog Feasty Geeks for some lovely Skyrim treats, and where I got my idea for sumac-flavored moonsugar._

* * *

___Edited for tense, Khajiit speech patterns, grammar, repetition, spelling & punctuation (mostly commas) on August 17th, 2013 [courtesy of Claviculae, who longs to sail high above the lands of Skyrim in a P-51D].  
_


	5. Unbound: Chapter 5

**_Act I_**

**_Unbound_**

**_Chapter V_**

* * *

_I love you as the plant that never blooms_

* * *

Severus trudged across Ivarstead towards Vilemyr Inn, a thatched long house up a long flight of wooden steps. He sat on the tall porch as the thunderclouds gathered and glowered out at the weather until the wind began blowing sheets of rain into his shelter. The interior was smoky and smelled of baking bread and the stew that bubbled in a great kettle over the fire. It seemed that the whole village was gathering up to the trestle tables and crowding around the bar.

Wilhelm, with his eye turned keenly out for business, hailed the newcomer.

"A peaceful… er… hello," Severus fumbled over the Khajiit greeting.

"Need a room? Maybe a drink? You name it."

Severus spread his coins on the counter. "Both."

There was a bard plucking the strings of a lute. A Nord named Bassianus, caught up in the song, pounded his fist against one of the wooden posts. His vigor was rewarded by a shower of bright scarlet snowberries from one of the woven wreaths that graced the hall.

Severus tucked himself into a dimly lit side table and began to nurse a large mug of mead. Fishing in his satchel, he extracted the first of many books: A Brief History of the Empire Part One.

* * *

The next morning Severus explored the town, foraging for ingredients. The deer also seemed to be drawn to the river just beyond the southern bridge. He selected a small doe and, wading carefully into the shallows, shot it. A kind Nord, introducing himself as Klimmek, helped Severus skin and section the venison in exchange for a cut of it.

Carrying his portion away, Severus returned to the inn to sell off what he couldn't prepare for himself.

It wasn't until the evening that Severus heard about the haunted barrow that encroached on the village. Shroud Hearth Barrow was situated just behind Klimmek's house. There was talk of it being haunted, of specters and shapes in the night. Even a traveler named Wyndelius Gatharian had disappeared while exploring it over a year before.[1] Here was his opportunity to do something truly worthwhile while waiting for Ajiira. Really, how hard could checking out a barrow be?

Finishing his tender venison steak, he sopped up the last of the juice with the corner of the warm buttered woven bread, contemplating his next move. He would leave a message for Ajiira in case she returned unexpectedly. Wilhelm eyed the eager youth skeptically but hopefully as Severus tightened his belt and strung his bow.

Twilight was creeping down the mountainside when Severus crested the incline of the barrow's rise. He crept into the shadows of the entrance, pausing to peak apprehensively into the open coffins that lined the half-moon-shaped passage.

The door leading into the barrow was his last defense. Even now he could turn back, but no, he would not. Steeling himself, he cracked it. A rush of stale air washing over him as he stepped inside. The entrance led directly to a steep winding staircase and Severus crept forward, gripping his bow.

"Leave this place, leave. Leave. Leave." [*] The voice shook the stone, sending a cascade of dust and debris from the ceiling.

Momentarily startled Severus glanced to his left and was immediately distracted by a table in a small side room. On it rested a book wrapped in a brilliant red binding. He sized the book up with a victorious smile, caressing the embossed cover design of three entwined circles in a triangular shape. The title was intriguing: Before the Ages of Man. Tucking it away, he returned the way he had come, creeping and quiet.

He caught sight of the glowing form of a man, hunched over a fire, muttering and murmuring to himself. "They shall not take my treasure. They shall all pay dearly for their crimes. Any who set foot within these walls will taste my wrath, my power. I am the guardian of Shroud Hearth Barrow! All who oppose me will fall." [*]

So intent on the specter, Severus stumbled, kicking a stone that bounced and echoed in the hallway. The apparition turned and adopted a fighting stance.

Severus fumbled with his bow, loosing an arrow that caught his attacker in the shoulder.

With a howl the ghost threw crackling lightning from his fingertips.

Severus dove out of the way of the blast, loosing his hold on his bow and feeling the sizzling brush of the magic along his leg. He scrambled, hearing another blast of hissing energy hit the stone where his head had been only a scant moment before. His bow was out of his reach; he scuttled backwards on his hands, the sharp rocks digging into his palms.

The ghost advanced on him and in a final moment of desperation he called forth a handful of fire, feeling it warm in his palm, and shoved it into his attackers face. He could feel the magicka leaving his fingertips. The blast was huge and the specter was knocked back against the wall, his clothing smoldering. Stunned or dead Severus couldn't tell. From somewhere over his shoulder an arrow came flying straight and true, embedding itself into the eye socket of the man.

Severus looked shakily over his shoulder as Ajiira disengaged from the shadows and knelt beside him. Her face wavered in his dim vision.

"Ma'Severus, what an excellent spell."

His answer was a moan as he tried to roll over but Ajiira held him back.

"Rest a moment; the nausea will pass." She pulled a blue vial from her belt and held it to his lips.

Severus found that his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He felt drained beyond what he could bear and so tired.

"Do not close your eyes yet." She brushed his hair back and chafed his hands. "You must wait for the potion to begin its work, yes?"

Dutifully he began to recite in a slightly slurred voice, "Zero, one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen—"

"Twenty-one."

"Twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five."

Feeling began to come back into his fingers as a raging headache began developing behind his eyes.

"What happened?"

"You attempted a spell that you are not ready to cast and drained yourself very thoroughly of magicka. You will be alright." She eased him back onto the floor; her cloak bundled under his head. She crossed to the table and flipped through a journal. After a long moment of reading she turned the potion bottle that glowed cobalt and purple. "Philter of the Phantom."

"Doesn't seem very useful to me."

Ajiira smiled and returned to his side to help him stand.

* * *

"Ma'Severus, you have a great gift for magic that this one cannot help you with." They stood beside the horses, saddled and ready to go, arguing now about their destination. The wind was mild and the golden birches were generously shedding their leaves but the mood between the three figures was tense.

Serana chimed in, "We ought to take you to the College of Winterhold and have you properly trained."

Ajiira nodded.

"But I want to go with you." Fear of the unknown made him petulant.

Serana rolled her eyes but, at Ajiira's pointed glare, stood and stalked a few paces away.

"Consider, perhaps, going to see the College? If you do not like it Ajiira will not leave you there. You must understand— this one has an item to retrieve from a place you cannot go. Either you wait at the College and use your time to gather knowledge, or Ajiira can take you home. Or you can travel your own path." The last was added almost as an after thought.

Severus nodded slowly. "I'll go and visit the College."

She smiled. "This one could not ask for more. We will ride to Windhelm and spend the night there before heading on to the College."

Serana sauntered over and took the reigns of her horse. "Have we decided?"

Ajiira mounted the horse and reached out for Severus's hand. "Windhelm it is."

* * *

It was long past midnight and fearfully cold when Ajiira slowed the horse to a stop and eased a bleary-eyed Severus off of the horse. He stumbled over the snow-strewn bridge, feeling the cold of the stone through his boots. The torch-bearing guard peered into their faces before cracking an immense metal door just wide enough for them to slide through.

"They are not much more friendly in the daylight, either," Serana muttered.

They crossed the courtyard as the storm that had been threatening for hours began in earnest. A gust of chilling wind whistled down the avenue, spinning up the snow and stinging their cheeks. Severus stumbled after his companions and into the open door that led to the inn.

Shedding their furs in a rented room, they climbed the stairs to the upper hall where dinner and a fire awaited them.

Seated at a table between Ajiira and Serana, Severus waited anxiously for their meal.

"You are lucky." Serana mused.

"Why?"

"Usually we camp outside of the stables. Your being with us lends us a touch of hmmm... respectability."

He looked at Ajiira questioningly.

"Ajiira's gold is welcome but Ajiira is not," she smiled in spite of this pronouncement, waving at the elderly cook.

Nils brought them an array of hot food: mushroom soup thick with hearty green kale, small dumplings stuffed with golden cheese and salty ham bits, beef wrapped in breading and slathered in a thick gravy, and two huge crostatas full of bubbling berries. "One jazbay and one snowberry," he said with a flourish and a nod.

Serana wandered away to listen to the grey skinned bard, uninterested in the food.

"Ma'Severus, this one wishes to know more about the quest that you pursue, if you are willing to enlighten Khajiit."

Severus nodded around a mouthful of flakey pastry, cheese oozing onto his fingers only to be chased by his mouth, determined to devour every bite.

"Well there is Tom Riddle, except we call him Voldemort now."

"Voldemort?" She turned the name over, tasting it.

"He is the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of our Mage's College, Hogwarts." Severus said with envy.

"Hog—warts?" Ajiira giggled.

Severus rolled his eyes and ignored her commentary. "He is the leader of an elite group called the Death Eaters. They are dedicated to magical purity. In my world there are three kinds of mages: Pureblood, half-blood and Muggle born. A Muggle is just a normal person who doesn't have any magical abilities. They are tainting our magic and we are going to purify our blood from them. Voldemort is the greatest of wizards! He has pushed the boundaries of magic farther than they had ever before.[2] He will give us, his followers, power- more power than we can dream of." His eyes where lit with dark fire, his hands gesturing wildly and a cruel smile deforming his face.

"Ajiira cannot imagine such a society since everyone in Nirni has some innate magic, however small. But how will the Voldemort purify the people?"

Severus hesitated then; this was something that had been vague since the beginning. Unbidden thoughts of genocide and holocaust flickered through his mind but he rejected them. When he answered it was uncertainly: "Stop Purebloods from marrying worthless Muggles?"

"Hnn, what about those, like yourself, who are already born with—ah—tainted blood?"

From anyone else those would have been the beginning of a raging feud, but from Ajiira it was only a question. "I will declare my allegiance to Tom—er… Voldemort, and I will make myself worthy."

"Ma'Severus," she murmured tenderly, "you are already worthy."

Serana returned to the table, bearing their customary bottles and Severus had no chance to reply, choosing instead to dig into his dinner. Breaking the flakey, buttery crust, he used a bite of beef to sop up the first bit of gravy thick with caramelized meat bits and spiced with frost marjoram. As the first bite dissolved on his tongue he caught sight of a woman. She moved with a flirtatious swing in her hips, her blond hair held back by a layer of glistening pomade. She smiled at the customers and stopped to laugh and flirt, displaying her creamy thigh in the slit of her tattered green skirt. She caught his eye and smiled, her fingers caressing the tarnished gold pendent she wore.

Severus flushed and looked away, unnerved by her frank appraisal.

The woman sauntered over to their table with a jingle of her golden bracelets, a coy smile curving her dark red lips. Severus didn't notice her approach at first but he caught sight of Ajiira palming her hidden dagger with her left hand. Ajiira's ears flattened and her breath caught in a hiss.

"You must be new around here." She ignored Severus's companions completely, leaning toward him over the table in order to display her exposed cleavage to the best advantage.

Severus nodded, still chewing.

"Did you know that the candle on the mantle hasn't gone out in over a hundred years?" [*]

Ajiira shifted in her seat.

Finally swallowing Severus opened his mouth to reply but the woman beat him to it.

"I'm called Susanna," she lowed her voice and batted her dark lashes flirtatiously. "But you can call me Susanna the Wicked."

"He doesn't need to call you anything. Your wares aren't welcome here." Ajiira began to rise, white-knuckling the dagger now.

Susanna recoiled. "Better keep your cat on a shorter leash traveler."

Ajiira bared her gleaming fangs.

Severus stared between them. "Whatever you are selling I'm not interested." He finally said.

Susanna smirked. "You're adorable. How about a free sample?"

Severus's stomach turned over nauseously at the thought of moonsugar but Susanna was running her fingers over the laces of her leather corset.

"No thank you," he whispered, sinking down into his seat.

Susanna turned away with a disappointed look, scanning the great-room for other likely customers.

Severus had the distinct feeling that he had missed something.

* * *

The air was crisp and the sky grey when they bundled up and emerged from Candlehearth Hall the next morning. Severus tramped down the steps behind Ajiira who walked with a more strut in her step this morning, hand resting openly on her dagger.

Soon he realized the reason for her posturing. The city folk pulled back from her, glaring and angry. The more bold ones spit at her boots.

Severus was outraged. "How can they treat you like that?"

Ajiira only shook her head as they descended into a different area of the city.

"The Gray Quarter," she supplied helpfully.

Once-colorful flags, now torn and worn, hung limply from the crumbing buildings. Refuse littered the street, and the furtive looks the dark elves shot them were unnerving.

"I don't like it here," Severus said petulantly.

Ajiira linked arms with him, urging him on. "Khajiit has someone she wants you to meet. We are almost there."

The wooden sign was worn and had graffiti scrawled over it but Severus could still make out the name: New Gnisis Cornerclub. They passed under the square stone pillars decorated with tattered red banners.

Ajiira opened the door onto a bare dingy room of rough paneled woods held together with rusty nails. It was warm in the room but the winter cold seemed to slip up through the cracks in the floor.

"Ambarys Rendar. A peaceful greeting to you friend." Ajiira crossed to the dark elf behind the counter. Seating herself boldly on one of the bar stools, she motioned Severus closer.

The elf regarded him with red eyes, a frown creasing his dark brow and wrinkling the lines of green face paint that adorned his cheeks and forehead.

"What brings you here, Ajiira?"

"This one." She motioned to Severus.

Severus bobbed his head and sank down onto another stool. The only other occupant of the room, a Dunmer who was occupied with sweeping the grimy floor, didn't even look up.

"Tell us about living in Windhelm, please," she prompted.

Ambarys sighed and wiped the scarred countertop absently. "You should know about this better than most."

"Oh, not for Khajiit; for this one's apprentice: Ma'Severus."

Ambarys set out four small tankards and poured a measure of sweet smelling liquor from a stone jar into each one. He nudged two of them forward.

"A special delivery from Geldis Sadri from Raven Rock: his special Sujamma."[3]

Although it was only late morning, Severus recognized an offering of friendship when he saw it. Ajiira ordered bread and cheese. Malthyr abandoned his broom and disappeared into the back room, returning with a generous platter smoked salmon.

They sipped the citrus, slightly carbonated beverage and chewed in silence for a few long moments as Ambarys gathered his thoughts.

Malthyr broke the silence first, taking the fourth glass of Sujamma. "I thought the Grey Quarter would be a haven for our kind; I was wrong."[*]

"What do you mean?" Severus cut off a generous slice of the creamy cheese.

Ambarys answered this question. "Well you see where we have to live: this forgotten alley. All the filth from the upper quarters flows downhill, like they say. Good luck getting one of the guards to help with anything. I tried to get Ulfric to even come down here to see the squalor, but the High Lord of His Mightiness couldn't find the time." [*]

"Windhelm is divided into four quarters. The Gray Quarter is the one that's home to all of the city's Dark Elves. If it looks to you like an impoverished slum, that's because it is. Ulfric prefers that we live in squalor. He has nothing but disdain for anyone who isn't a Nord. He tolerates us, but that's the extent of his hospitality."[*]Malthyr chimed in.

"Ulfric?"

"The Jarl of Windhelm?" Ambarys looked taken aback.

"Ma'Severus is a foreigner to the ways of Skyrim."

"You have chosen an excellent mentor."

"Why do so many Dunmer live in Windhelm if it's so bad here?" Severus pressed.

"Where else would we be?" Ambarys snapped testily. "When the Red Mountain burned, you could scarcely breathe in Morrowind. So we came west. Windhelm is the first city on that road, and here we are. If we had known the Nords would be so unwelcoming, we may have kept walking." [*]

Malthyr stroked his close cut beard. "I don't see why we should live as an underclass to the Nords. If anything, they owe us." [*]

This was obviously a well-worn conversation because Ambarys nodded despondently and poured another round of Sujamma without comment.

* * *

Exiting the cornerclub they turned left and climbed the steps to a shabby pawnshop.

"Sadri's Used Wares," Severus read, glancing sideways at his companion.

She smiled serenely as she motioned for him to enter.

The dark elf behind the counter only had eyes for the cat, asking breathlessly, "Have you taken care of that... little problem?" [*]

"This one has completed what you asked of her," Ajiira said in amusement.

"Thank you. Thank you! Azura's Prophecy always guide you to fortune. Speaking of fortune, here. Everything I earned from my last shipment. It's yours." [*]

Ajiira accepted the gold with a smile. "What will you give this one for these fresh brewed elixirs? Best in Skyrim, yes?"

Severus wandered down the counter, regarding at the goods for sale, lost in thought.

"Ma'Severus?"

He looked down at Ajiira, who had slipped up beside him. "Just thinking about what Ambarys said about the Stormcloaks. I still don't really understand."

"There are two sides here in Skyrim: the Stormcloaks, led by Ulfric, and the Imperial Legion, aligned with the Thalmor. Both have supporters of many different races. The Empire has ruled in Skyrim for thousands of years, yes? But the Great War has changed many things. The Aldmeri Dominion, whose governmental title is Thalmor, forced the signing of the White-Gold Concordat."

"What does that have to do with Skyrim?"

"One of the main issues here is the banning of Talos worship." Ajiira was silent for a long moment before continuing. "Khajiit does not get involved in politics or Nordic religion. It is true that the Thalmor have the authority to hunt and oppress Talos worshippers. They have an embassy near Solitude." She glanced at Sadri, who was preoccupied with sorting the potions she had provided to him. Lowering her voice she whispered, "This one thinks that this preoccupation with Talos merely allows them the excuse to travel the Empire and gather information on internal affairs. They believe that others, both man and beast, are inferior and they are the true rulers of Tamriel."

Severus hummed.

"There are books of course, if you would like," Ajiira teased.

* * *

The sun was setting as they passed into an open market and Ajiira led him to the first stall where an wood elf with eyes that were green like tenderest new spring leaves stood.

"Niranye," Ajiira greeted.

From across the market a dark elf was calling out his wares, "Assorted fruits and vegetables, all delicious and affordable!" [*]

"Shut up, gray-skin!" A burly warrior with a bottle in his hand hollered from where he was sprawled on a bench near the open-air forge.

Severus turned back to Ajiira and Niranye who were in the process of bartering over an assortment of jewelry.

The irate man continued to alternate his long pulls from his bottle with shouted commentary. "Go back to Morrowind, Dark Elf maggots! You're not welcome here!" [*]

Leaning in, Severus asked, "Do you get treated as badly as the dark elves?"

Niranye smirked, the gold in her hands tinkling as she passed it back and forth. "It was difficult at first. The Nords of this city are, at best, suspicious of outsiders. But in time I made the right friends and proved myself useful enough that they don't give me trouble anymore. The Dunmer are too proud and naive to see the way things truly are, and so they continue to dwell in that slum." [*]

Severus fidgeted with the fringe of his scarf, silently fuming.

Ajiira shook her head with a sad smile and began looking through Niranye's selection of books. When she had been satisfied they began the walk back to the inn.

As they passed, the man lurched to his feet and seized Severus's arm, "You. You a Dark Elf lover? Get out of our city, you filthy piece of trash." [*]

"Who do you think you are?" Severus's temper reached its boiling point.

"Rolff Stone-Fist, brother of Galmar Stone-fist, servant of the true High King of Skyrim. Hater of the Dark Elves, Argonian scum, and flea-ridden Khajiit." He glanced pointedly at Ajiira. "Skyrim belongs to the Nords!"

"I don't like your attitude," Severus snarled.

"Don't like it? Too bad. This is our city. Ours! Don't think I can take you? One hundred gold pieces says I can punch you back where you came from." [*]

Severus didn't bother to pull his arm out of the man's drunken grip. In one movement he brought his right fist crashing into Rolff's cheek, the edge of his open hand gauntlet drawing blood.

"Fight, fight, fight!" Voices called from the stalls.

Rolff dropped his bottle and it shattered, splashing the bitter beer over Severus's boots. He wrenched his arm away and punched the man again, throwing his shoulder behind it. Street fighting was something he knew intimately. He had fought many times in the alleyways of Manchester. But even just three weeks ago, nineteen-year-old Severus Snape would have drawn his wand with an unforgivable on his lips, intent on winning whatever the cost. Now his only goal was to put this piece of xenophobic dung in his place.

Rolff caught him high on his left cheek and Severus staggered before returning the punch to Rolff's stomach. With a wheeze Rolff dropped to his knees.

"I yield."

"Take back what you said about Ajiira."

Rolff pulled a face, but when Severus's pale hand closed around his throat, he choked out an apology. Fishing a coin purse out of his tunic he tossed it down and scuttled away, rubbing his neck.

"We are going back to the Cornerclub for dinner," Severus declared, jiggling the purse with finality.

Ajiira didn't comment, but just fell in step beside him, boots crunching on the snow.

"That eye is going to hurt tomorrow." She observed.

Severus only shrugged.

The sun had dropped below the walls and the narrow stairs that led to the slums were slippery. A young girl in thin clothes descended before them clutching a basket of flowers to her chest.

"Sofie, where is your cloak?"

The girl ducked her head.

Without another word Ajiira unhooked her wolf-fur cloak and draped it around the girl's thin shoulders. It trailed behind her like a royal train.

"Thank you Ajiira."

New Gnisis was bustling. The bar and single table were crowded with the Dunmer residents of the Grey Quarter. They claimed a faded rug and Severus shouldered his way up to the bar. Turning back to look at Ajiira as she spoke with Sofie, he watched as his kind-hearted teacher passed a leather purse to the child.

"Severus, what can I get for you?" Ambarys pleasure at seeing Severus was genuine.

* * *

They set out early the next morning. The road to Winterhold took them past Anga's Mill before turning away from the River Yorgrim and heading northward. The snow began as they rounded the mountain, driving and fierce. Severus dozed against Ajiira's back, cocooned in furs.

It was hours of riding up the gentle incline, skirting the mountains and hemmed in by the Sea of Ghosts on the other side, before they entered the hold. There was not much left of Winterhold. Ajiira explained that the town had declined since an event known as the Great Collapse almost eighty years prior. Over half of the hold fell into the sea leaving only the Frozen Hearth Inn, the Jarl's Longhouse, and a few residences.

Ajiira left the horse at the inn and they crossed the small town on foot. They approached the college bridge with heavy trudging steps. The College of Winterhold was a dark shape, a pinnacle on a column of rock that seemed to defy gravity; it loomed over the small settlement like a dark predator.

Up the steps, in the shadow and shelter of the first arch, a fur wrapped figure bid them to pause.

"Faralda, blessings of the moons upon you."

The elf pushed back her hood, reveling golden skin and keen amber eyes. "Ajiira, it has been a while. Is Serana with you? I had hoped to discuss the technical aspects of the ice storm spell with her."

"Allas, she is not." Ajiira motioned Severus to go before her. "Khajiit has brought her apprentice for training."

Faralda pulled up her hood, tucking pale auburn hair back. "Of course, how nice. Well, you know the way."

Ajiira continued along the snow-covered pathway. "Stay close Ma'Severus, it is slippery up here and the winds are strong."

In but a few moments he saw the extent of warning as the path stretched before them over an open chasm. In the middle it was disintegrating. He shivered and steeled himself before following Ajiira's light steps. The College spread out before them, two towers on either side, and straight ahead was a taller tower bearing an open eye insignia in a large glass window.

They passed into the first arches and approached the gate, which swung open at their approach. Inside they stepped into a large courtyard surrounded by a portico of high arches and pillars. The three towers that were visible from the outside opened into this space.

Ajiira lead him to a serious-looking woman with short dark hair. "Ma'Severus, may Khajiit present Mirabelle Ervine. She runs the day-to-day operations of the College."

The woman nodded in greeting but her eyes were trained on a tall, sour looking elf on the other side of the courtyard.

"This one will take him to the Hall of Attainment and you can come when you have a moment."

Mirabelle walked away without further comment.

"She is very busy," Ajiira whispered, "The Arch-Mage, Savos Aren is rather… disconnected from the mundane day-to-day."

Mirabelle strode up to the man, her authoritative voice carrying through the still air. "I've had yet another complaint, Ancano. Please stop barging in on experiments in progress." [**]

"My dear, I am merely observing the proceedings," [*] Ancano sneered.

"Well then 'observe' from a greater distance. You're making people uncomfortable," [*]she snapped frostily.

It looked as though Ancano would reply but Ajiira took Severus's arm and led him to the tower door. The warm air buffeted them as they shed their snowy boots and cloaks in the entryway.

They passed into a circular central room with a bright blue pool of liquid flame in the center. Rooms were arranged around this chamber. Across from the entryway was a staircase leading to another level. Six rooms, three on each side, housed beds and personal storage.

Ajiira sauntered into the first nook-like room on the right. "This is Ajiira's room. Consider everything here your own."

He looked at the narrow bed piled with furs and a thick burgundy coverlet, the wardrobes that lined the right wall, and the tall bookshelves filled with tomes on the other.

"You studied at the College?"

"Briefly. This one has a few Illusion spells up her gauntlets and, of course, the most basic understanding of Restoration." She toyed with a few lavender gems that littered the low cupboard before opening it to extract a tray of goblets and a bottle. "Actually, Enthir convinced this one to attempt more formal magical schooling."

Severus reviewed the people he had met thus far and came up empty. "Enthir?"

She smiled as she recorked the bottle and passed him the silver goblet. "Khajiit had business with Enthir; he is very knowledgeable in… mmm… unconventional subjects, and a friendship was formed. You will meet him very soon, yes?" After a long pause she continued hesitantly, ears lain back. "Khajiit thinks it might be wise to keep the nature of your arrival in Skyrim and your quest to yourself for now. Perhaps Urag, the librarian, can help you with some research on the Dragonborn but—"

Severus cut her off with a wave of his hand, "I'll exercise caution, don't worry."

Ajiira nodded and pored a third goblet of win just as Mirabelle rounded the corner and sank into the chair.

"That elf!" She fumed, accepting the offered wine. "They may be used to the Empire bowing to their every whim, but I'm afraid they will soon find the Thalmor receive no such treatment here."[**] After a moment she turned a businesslike stare to Severus in his ornate armor, cradling his goblet and shifting from foot to foot. "Welcome to the College. I hope you will find our school to your liking."[4]

"What do you expect from me?" Severus asked boldly, lifting his chin in challenge. He was not going to repeat his experience at Hogwarts.

Mirabelle blinked at him for a long moment before replying, "There are no expectations. This College is a place to study and practice magic freely. Hopefully any discoveries made in your pursuits will be shared with the members of the College first. That way, we all benefit."[*]

"Tell Ma'Severus who teaches here, please."

"Faralda can teach Destruction spells and offers training in that school. Phinis is one of the best Conjurers in all of Skyrim, and can help with spells from that school. Don't let Tolfdir fool you; he's the pre-eminent scholar on Alteration - one of the best in Tamriel, and always willing to pass on his knowledge. If you can find him and focus his attention, there's a great deal Drevis can teach you about Illusion magic. And finally, there's Colette. She may be... difficult to get along with, but she's very knowledgeable when it comes to Restoration magic."[*]

Severus chewed on that as Mirabelle produced a set of mages robes and a hood.

"Well, first you'll need these. While you're not required to wear them, you may find them more to your liking than your current clothes." [*] She eyed his armor with a touch of distain. "Would you like a tour of the College?"

"Thank you Mirabelle, this one will show Ma'Severus the Hall of Elements and the Arcanaeum. Khajiit knows you are busy."

"Very good, just remember to keep your voice down while inside the various Halls, as others may be working on research or... delicate experiments."[**] With that final warning she discarded her cup and exited the room without a backwards glance.

"She is much better upon closer acquaintance," Ajiira offered at Severus's befuddled expression.

There was a racket on the stairs. "Do I hear Ajiira, the Shadowcat?"

Severus peeked around the doorway to see an elf with a limp mohawk hurry across the room.

"Ajiira, it is you. You've come back to our little frozen corner of Skyrim." The Bosmer sorcerer came into the small room with a smirk.

"These sands are cold, but Khajiit feels warmth from your presence." Ajiira greeted him enthusiastically.

Enthir looked Severus up and down appraisingly. "My, my, Ajiira; always picking up new projects."

Severus glowered, "I'm _not_ a project."

"Really?" he drawled with a leer.

"Enthir, peace. Ma'Severus is Khajiit's apprentice," Ajiira said reprovingly.

Enthir blinked and looked at the dark boy with new respect. "_Ma__'_Severus?" Apparently his prefix held some weight. "Well my apologies. Stick with me kid, I'll teach you everything I know."

"Please Enthir, not everything," Ajiira laughed. "We were going to the Hall of the Elements. Walk with us?"

They bundled up again and trudged out into the snow, through the courtyard garden. Bare trees, hearty fir and pine, and the tenacious snowberry shrubs, heavy with the sweet scarlet fruit, dominated the garden. A statue of a figure in flowing robes, arms outstretched and inviting entrance, presided over the blue beacon of flame in it large stone pit.

Ajiira walked next to Severus, her hand resting lightly on his elbow. Enthir walked ahead, taking the lead and beginning the tour like it was a college lecture.

"The Hall of the Elements, the ancient College of Winterhold's most prominent feature. It's our primary location for lectures, practice sessions, and general meetings. You'll usually find someone working their jaw around some sort of technical lecture." Enthir laughed. "In fact, tomorrow Tolfdir is giving a bit of an introduction to magic to our newest students. You'll meet them soon I'm sure, as they share our home-hall."

They entered the massive building and stood in the antechamber. Leading off from either side of the foyer were staircases while directly before them was an arch that led into the main room. "The Arcanaeum is located above the hall, and the Arch-Mage's quarters above that. While technically in charge of the College, the Arch-Mage's responsibilities often keep him… occupied. Mirabelle is the real muscle behind the college." [**]

Ajiira raised a hand in greeting as an elderly mage approached them.

"Ajiira? Have you come to finish your training?" He smiled warmly.

"Fortune smiles upon this meeting, Tolfdir. Alas, Ajiira has brought an apprentice. Ma'Severus, Tolfdir. Tolfdir, Ma'Severus. This one trusts that he will be in good hands here."

The elderly man turned a fatherly smile on Severus. "I hope you will be very successful here, Severus." They clasped hands and Severus noticed that his eyes were two different colors, hazel and green, under his grey brows. "I hope you will join us for our session tomorrow."

Severus could only extricate his hand with the barest of nods, overwhelmed.

* * *

The Arcanaeum was up a level from the Hall of the Elements. Ajiira led the way into the center of the circular room, a sunken area with tables and chairs, full of books and lit with an abundance of candles. On the other side was a massive desk, from which an equally massive orc glared.

"Urag gro-Shub, this one has brought you the stolen books you requested." She handed over three books with a smile and a saucy flick of her tail. "Khajiit has also brought you a scholar: her apprentice, Ma'Severus."

He raised a bushy white eyebrow and caressed the returned books with gentle but colossal hands. "I don't care if he's your long lost brother, I don't want to see him treating any of these books poorly. Are we clear?" [**]

Severus nodded, cowed by the green skinned mage's fervor.

"Urag, please. Would Khajiit ever ask for special treatment?" She teased.

He smiled, his huge lower incisors protruding from his full beard. "Of course you would. But as long as he treats my books right we won't have a problem."

Ajiira clapped her hands and Severus had the distinct impression that he had just cleared a significant hurtle.

* * *

"Yes, I will stay, but just until you come back." Severus stated. The snow was beginning to fall again but they were sheltered just inside the main gates. Night had cloaked the world in shadow and Ajiira's eyes glimmered in the light of her guttering torch.

"Align yourself with Enthir and Tolfdir; they will look out for you." Ajiira clasped his arm firmly.

Severus sighed, adjusting the sleeves of his new robes. "Where are you going?"

"This one has an object to retrieve— the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller."

"You should wait for first light. Perhaps by then the storm will have died down," Severus wheedled.

Ajiira shook her head, but answered gently. "Khajiit will return as soon as she is able. Learn well. May the sun keep you warm, even in this land of bitter cold." And with a final clasp of hands she pulled up her hood and turned back to the gates, disappearing into the night.

* * *

_Just a note~ I have included a list (which is fluid & will most likely be added too) of DLCs and mods (from Skyrim Nexus) at the end of the first chapter. Please check it out if you are curious and pm/email me with any questions. I don't use texture-enhancing mods because I run Skyrim on a standard Mac booted into Windows, not a gaming computer._

_I never respond to reviews in the comments but there is a time for even an aberration like this. Mike, thank you for your amazing, fabulous, huge reviews; they are the best reviews I could ask for. I would like to answer your questions & etc. Please consider emailing me._

* * *

[*] Dialogue lifted directly from the game.

[**] Dialogue lifted from the game with slight alterations.

[1] Shroud Hearth Barrow and the details in this section are from the quest called **Lifting the Shroud**.

[2] From Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, "Lord Voldemort's Request".

[3] Reference to Geldis Sadri of the Retching Netch in Raven Rock added by the Dragonborn DLC & his quest **Distribute Sadri's Sujamma**.

[4] Events in this section are based around the first of the College of Winterhold quest line: **First Lessons**.

* * *

_Edited for grammar & punctuation on September 1st-4th, 2013 [courtesy of Claviculae, who is__ my magnanimously magnificently marvelously mighty morphin' power beta—his words, not mine__]._


	6. Uncommon: Chapter 6: Part 1

**_Act II_**

**_Uncommon_**

**_Chapter VI_**

**_Part I: The College of Winterhold_**

* * *

_But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers _

* * *

Severus wandered back into the Hall of Attainment. Enthir was leaning against the archway, a smirk flirting with his pointed lips.

"So Severus, or do you prefer Ma'Saverus?"

"Severus is fine." He was unwilling to share what he considered an endearment with this nosy Bosmer.

He only nodded and motioned for Severus to follow, "You must be starving. I'll show you the common room."

Severus thought briefly about saying something snotty and flouncing off to his, or rather Ajiira's, room to have a sulk about being left behind, but his stomach made itself known at that moment. While the elf was a little much, Ajiira obviously trusted him and _she_ had yet to let Severus down.

He followed silently up the stairway. Through a tall arch Severus could already see Tolfdir seated at the end of a long wooden table. He was bending over a hearth with a frying pan seated on a grating close to the coals. The sausages were sizzling and hissing, permeating the air with a mouthwatering fragrance.

Enthir seated him between the two mages and passed him a silver plate. There was fresh bread, slices of creamy golden cheese, and the pungent, crumbly Eidar to spread on it, along with slightly-withered apples from the root cellar and a steaming snowberry pie. Tolfdir served him from the frying pan and Enthir placed a small pot of mustard in front of him. While Tolfdir made a sign of respect that Severus recognized as thanks to some deity, Enthir dug right in with gusto, smacking his lips and taking deep drinks from a rounded bottle of wine.

Severus smeared the mustard on the sausage and took his first bite, suddenly starving. It was a honey-dill mustard and suddenly he wished for home. Not for England, but for a modest manor nestled on a lake, with a coffee-skinned cook mixing dough in the kitchen, an Orc turning a spit over a roaring hearth-fire, and a little Khajiit sneaking berries out of the pie filling.

No one spoke for a long moment but when the meal was done and the pie was cut Enthir smiled at Severus over his steeple fingers.

"You aren't sure if you trust me." It was a statement, bald but unaccusing. "That's good; I'm a slippery bastard."

Severus couldn't help smiling, shaking his head and glancing over at the other wizard.

Tolfdir stirred up the coals again and Severus watched him prepare a battered metal teakettle longingly. How many days had it been since he had tasted a cup of tea?

Taking a set of mugs off of the sideboard, Tolfdir poured them both a cup. It was herbal and sweet, a light floral finish. It didn't have the body of a suitably stout English black tea but Severus would take whatever he could get.

Tolfdir leaned back and stretched his legs out with a sigh. "The first thing to do is acquaint you with the schools of magic so that you can decide what are the best fits for you. An apprentice should really focus their strength on two schools, three at most."

They both stared at Severus until he dropped his eyes. "I've only learned a few spells so far."

"Humility is a good character trait in a wizard; too many great mages have been seduced by their own power."

Severus snorted into his tea. He was not being humble; he was being cowardly, hoping that they wouldn't have high expectations for him.

Tolfdir was still talking, oblivious to Severus's inner angst. "You will have to choose your schools of magic. There are five, and each has its own uses. Are you familiar with the schools?"

"Destruction, Alteration, Illusion, Restoration, and Conjuration," he answered promptly. Sometimes being an unrepentant swot had its perks.

Tolfdir was in teacher mode and simply kept talking, nodding and smiling all the while. "Magic can be very dangerous for the untried. In fact, there was a young dark elf I began teaching about the time Ajiira first came here, very gifted in conjuration but wild and untamed. She summoned a Dremora as part of a demonstration and it laid waste to the Hall of the Elements, killing two apprentices before it was stopped."

"Ajiira put it down actually. I've never seen someone move so fast." Enthir tapped the rim of his teacup with the pad of one finger.

"What happened to the dark elf?"

"Actually Ajiira took her away—the poor girl was inconsolable: screaming and crying—she even tried to kill herself." Tolfdir shook his head sadly.

Enthir broke in, "Ajiira had to tie her up and put her on the back of her horse. She just rode off without a word to anyone. Didn't show up until over a month later—no Ivramie."

"Wait—Ivramie?" Severus sat up straighter. "There is an Ivramie at Ajiira's holding."

Enthir rolled his eyes, "I'm not surprised. That cat has a bleeding heart deep enough to enfold all of Skyrim."

Severus drained his cup and slammed it down. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Whoa, I didn't mean anything by it."

Severus glowered.

Enthir hastened to explain: "Ajiira could have been a great mage—with a little dedication and the right gear. But she has never been one to settle in one place for long and the demands of The College conflicted with the demands of The Guild, then the vampires came and after all that was laid to rest, the Dragons started attacking. Ajiira will lay aside her own interests indefinitely in order to serve the interests of others. Let me guess: she has already agreed to help you with something after she completes her current missions."

Severus had the good grace to blush at that.

"See, a bleeding heart."

* * *

It was late when Severus woke. He splashed cold water on his sleep-creased face and crossed to the wardrobe, running a pale hand over the hanging garments. Humming thoughtfully he fingered the first set of robes. They were the initiate robes that Mirabelle had given him just the day before. They seemed perfectly serviceable, and yet—they looked diminished somehow next to the other, more costly looking robes.

Ajiira _had_ told him that everything in this chamber was his after all. He selected a deep burgundy wool tunic with entwining silver embroidery and a fir lined, midnight blue overcoat. He secured it with his own delicately tooled leather belt and pouches. Underneath it he pulled on his leather breeches.

It was strange to consider how he no longer felt at ease without several blades strapped inside his boots, two crossed at the small of his back, one at each wrist, and one at each hip. But there was no time to ponder his dressing habits now—tugging a fur-lined hood over his disheveled head, he pushed open the door the courtyard and jogged to the Hall of the Elements.

The air inside seemed only marginally warmer. Tolfdir smiled genially as Severus approached the small huddle of whispering students. There were three of them: a Nord, a Dark Elf and a Khajiit, all hooded and robes just as Severus was. It did not escape his notice that his robe were of a thicker, richer material and better cut. For the first time in his life he felt the satisfaction of being exceptionally well-dressed.

"Ah Severus, just in time."[1]

The students eyed him warily, their anxiety palpable. Severus caught sight of Ancano, the testy High Elf, skulking in the shadows of the great pillars.

Tolfdir continued, unruffled, "So as I was saying the first thing to understand is that magic is, by its very nature volatile and dangerous. Unless you can control it, it can and will destroy you."[*]

The girl spoke up, her exasperation clear in her voice, "Sir, we _know _this! Why else would be be here?"

'Ten points from the Hall of Attainment for your tone Miss Maryon,' Severus snarked to himself, but Tolfdir seemed unfazed by her manner.

"Your innate skills are not being questioned Brelyna. I am talking about the control of a master wizard over his or her chosen school of study. The ability to be both an offensive and defensive battlemage: a healer with a wide range of spells for all ailments; a conjuror able to hold and control multiple conjurations; an illusionist with the ability to bend the reality of those around them so seamlessly that they are completely unaware before, during and long after, a student of alteration able to turn iron to gold and paralyze those who oppose him. It takes years, sometimes decades to attain that level of skill through rigorous practice and serious study."[**]

Brelyna nodded, eyes on the floor.

The Khajiit's familiar accent sounded next, though his frustration shone brightly through his eager words, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get started!"[*]

"Haste denies all acts their dignity,"[2] Severus murmured under his breath, earning him a sideways look from the Nord who stood at his right.

"This is precisely what I was warning you against. Your commendable eagerness must be tempered with wisdom. Wisdom and caution are often two sides of the same septim."[**]

"But we've only just arrived here—you've no idea what any of us are even capable of! Why not give us a chance to show you what we can do?"[*] The Nord's plea was passionate.

Tolfdir turned bright eyes on Severus's face, "Severus? Anything to add?"

Severus took a deep breath; Ivramie's dark face lined with sadness sprang to mind. "Safety should be more important than anything," he finally said.

J'zargo made a muted noise of disgust but Brelyna nodded in agreement.

"My thoughts exactly. Let's start with some warding spells. You can all show me what you know about defending yourself." He said the last with a nod at Onmund who only shook his head. "Severus, will you join me for a demonstration?"

He nodded, crossing to the large metal icon on the floor as Tolfdir continued his lecture.

"Wards are protective spells that block magic."[*]

Onmund and J'zargo snorted and even Severus had to roll his eyes a little at the slightly patronizing tone Tolfdir was taking.

Severus cast a ward spell and held it so that Tolfdir could hit him with a low-powered fireball. It was not flashy magic, and not particularly difficult to execute. Brelyna was right about one thing: they all had the basics down. Tolfdir forced them to run through several rounds of warding.

After the first hour their smug pleasure turned into sweaty panting as they physically dodged the tiny blasts and struggled to summon the magic to respond to each other. It seemed that developing stamina was going to be a battle. Severus thought that it was to Tolfdir's credit that he wasn't smug.

Tolfdir called the end of the lesson and they all sank to the floor or onto benches with sighs of relief. Severus turned to Brelyna but before he even opened his mouth she was already talking.

"Brelyna Maryon of House Telvanni. First of my family to leave Morrowind in a long time. Now I'm here to study Conjuration. Before you even ask, yes I have an ancestry steeped in magic, and no I don't want to talk about it. Yes, I know Winterhold used to be full of my kind, and no I don't care that they're all gone now. Does that cover everything?"

"I'm uhm—sorry. I was just going to ask if you have chosen a specialty. But I see you have."

"I've just been asked enough questions. I'm here to learn, not to explain myself over and over. But, forgive me, I didn't mean to assume." She gave him a small smile and turned away, hunching her shoulders.

Severus turned to find J'zargo's gaze heavy on him, whiskers twitching. "You are new, yes? Have you mastered the Expert level destruction spells yet?" [*]

"Uhm, what?" Surely not; they had only just come to the college. Severus rubbed his fingertips over the edge of his coat, remembering the last time he had over extended himself.

"So sad—this one had hoped to find other mages _worthy_ of J'zargo and his companionship."

Severus sneered and turned away. J'zargo was an ass, cocky and arrogant, determined to be the best at any cost. Even so, he didn't single anyone out for personal cruelty. Severus would have to be sure he avoided the Khajiit if his moods were dark.

Severus met the Nord's eyes as he mopped his brow and complained to Tolfdir. Onmund was disappointed to be the only Nord in the College and let everyone know it—loudly.

When Tolfdir excused himself Severus took his place next to Onmund and leaned against the pillar. He might be unfamiliar with the nuances of friendly peer-to-peer conversation but he gave it his best attempt. "Why do Nords dislike magic?" So far, besides the Great Collapse, which really wasn't much more than a rumor, he had yet to see something to dislike.

Onmund rolled his shoulders and gave Severus a bitter smile. "Magic is shunned by most. If it can't be swung over your head and used to crack skulls, most Nords want nothing to do with it. Magic is seen as something for elves, and weaker races. I mean—look at the evidence. The Oblivion Crisis was caused by magic-users, or maybe the fact that the College is the only thing left standing after most of Winterhold was destroyed." He lowered his voice and glanced toward where Ancano leaned against a pillar. "You _know_ about the troubles with the Aldmeri Dominion, who are _elves_ and magic-users and how they are taking away our gods and subjugating us. It all adds up to be fairly damning." [**]

"But you still want to be here?" Severus matched his hushed tone.

"If my family couldn't change my mind I doubt a couple of elves will be able to."

* * *

After the first lesson Severus hid in the library. The changes of the past week were catching up to him and tangling his thoughts. Urag pretended not to notice him but made two cups of the herbal tea and left one on the edge of the shadowed table that Severus hunched over as he sauntered to the far bookcases.

The College was centered around the Hall of the Elements both literally and experientially in a different way thank Hogwarts used its great hall. The age and number of students was one of the first differences that Severus had noticed. It was a blessing, he decided—less people to make enemies of. He shivered, thinking of _Potter_ and his gang, or even the dark students who had haunted Slytherin. There was safety to be had here as well: he no longer checked his shoulder every other moment. J'zargo might be a bit of a bastard, but he was well behaved for the most part.

If the classes continued the way they had begun it would be a blessing. Their informality and attention to the individual student was refreshing. No longer stuffed behind rows of childish desks, they were immersed fully in the practical and personal experience of the wild magic.

The teachers seemed decent for the most part. He hadn't met them all, but Tolfdir, at least, was a true ally. Severus needed to discern allies early in this game; he would not be left defenseless among favored troublemakers again.

Urag shifted from where he was enthroned behind his colossal desk, flipping through a book with fingers the size of sausages. At his sideways look Severus nodded and collected the empty teacup.

"Thank you, Urag." He balanced the green mug in his palm.

The great Orc snorted and pointedly flipped a page. "Ajiira mentioned that you were doing a bit of research, on the quiet."

Severus nodded. "You know her well?"

"Many people _know_ her—whether I can claim to know her _well _is another questions. Other than that dark shadow of hers, Serana, I don't know if anyone can claim that honor. But I will tell you this: I_ owe_ her. I owe her as sure as the Bloody Curse of Malacath. Everyone owes Ajiira, the whole of Skyrim owes that cat whether they know it or not." At Severus's blank look he continued in an undertone. "Shall I tell you what I owe Ajiira?"

Severus's eyes narrowed and he eyed the Orc speculatively.

"You have had the honor of attendance at her holding." It was a statement, not a question. "You will have met Nargul, my brother. We were brought up at the same Orc stronghold but while I chose to leave the cloister of my youth he chose to vie for the position of chief. When he failed he believed that his time had come and that he had passed the age of usefulness." At Severus's questioning look, Urag explained. "Many Orc men do not have the same thoughts of the Nord and Imperial men, who carry on until they are grey and feeble and their hair falls out. They think that to take wives when you are too old to become chief would be improper. To cling to something past its usefulness is unseemly; how much more so when that thing is you?" Then he laughed at Severus's furrowed brow. "Orcs count age and honor beyond the ken of little men."

"How is Ajiira part of this tale?"

"Well, Nargul had sent me his personal dagger as a parting gift and traveled into the wilderness to wait until his glorious death found him. Ajiira found him instead. Somehow, and I will never know just how, she convinced him to wait a little longer for his glorious death."

"And so he did?"

"So he did."[3]

* * *

Severus's initial contact with the schools of magic was a dizzying day of watching the teachers run through sets of spells while the apprentices watched. J'zargo heckled in an undertone. Brelyna only had eyes for Phinis Gestor's Conjuration demonstration. Onmund was quiet, and Severus thought he looked a little overwhelmed.

While at first intrigued with the darker aspects of Conjuration, Severus soon began to regard the schools through a different lens. Would this be helpful to Ajiira? Would this be useful?

He also quickly learned, much to his bemusement, that alchemy had fallen out of favor with those who considered themselves more serious magical practitioners. It was viewed as little more than a hobby, something to be dabbled in but not pursued.

When the demonstrations had concluded and his peers hurried off to their chosen mentors Severus stole away and sought out Enthir.

The elf was relaxing in his room, feet up and a book in his lap. He motioned for Severus to enter the small room and set the well-worn tome aside. Severus raised one dark eyebrow: _The Lusty Argonian Maid_?

The look Enthir gave him was positively lewd.

Choosing to ignore the elves proclivities, Severus turned _Racial Phylogeny_, a book he had just borrowed from Urag, over in his hands in badly-feigned nonchalance.

"Enthir, you know Ajiira's skills, do you not?"

He leered, "Now which skills would those be?"

Oh Merlin! Severus turned away, flushing brightly. It was obvious that this was a bad idea from the start.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll refrain." Enthir reached out a staying hand. "I would say I know a little about her skills, but I have not fought beside her; I am a peaceful man of the world." Enthir smirked at some personal joke, old but long remembered. After a long moment he continued, "I know her fellow warriors, however." Now he pursed his lips thoughtfully and seemed to take the question seriously.

Severus picked at a loose thread on the binding, searching for the right words.

"Sit down, kid. What's on your mind?"

"I just wondered, what kinds of magic would be most useful to Ajiira? You know—if I was with her."

"She uses ranged stealth attacks, always has and I suspect that she always will." Enthir uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses, nudging the piles of odds and ends to the edge of the table. "You want to help her?"

Severus nodded.

"Very noble." There was a long pause as Enthir drank his wine. "Have you used Destruction magic at all?"

Flushing again, Severus described the Shroud Hearth Barrow debacle. Enthir was suitably impressed.

"Fire is a good choice: strong and often deadly. You can roast people in their own armor. Alteration would also be a useful skill if you became prolific at detecting life and casting armoring spells. I am sure that you will want to select a third school? Restoration is often overlooked but can literally mean life or death. Wards and healing spells are often underused."

Severus nodded and stood, mind already running down those paths.

"Oh, and Severus? Watch out for Ancano. There is no love lost between him and Ajiira. The fact that you are her apprentice and she is you benefactor is enough for him to single you out. Be careful."

With that caution ringing in his ears Severus retreated to his room.

* * *

[*] I_n-game dialogue._

[**]Dialogue from the game with alterations.

[1] Events in this section are the conclusion to the College of Winterhold's quest: **First Lessons**.

[2] Dante Alighieri, from _The Divine Comedy_, Purgatory.

[3] Events in this story are from the wilderness encounter **A Good Death**.

* * *

_Edited for grammar & punctuation on October 25th, 2013 [courtesy of Claviculae, who can't wait to see Severus turn into a supportive combatant__]._

* * *

_Do you agree with Enthir's recommendations on the magic that Severus should study?_


End file.
